Reflections
by Sunni
Summary: Abby's thoughts on her life and her relationship with Carter. **Chapter 23: Game Faces, lost post ep for season 9's 'A Hopeless Wound.' Last installment of the series.
1. Reflections

NOTE: Ok, so it may look like I'm a little late coming to the party with this one, but I had every intention of posting this yesterday. However, ff.net had every intention of aggravating me yesterday, and thus the story is here now. It's a CT post-ep, and thus has nothing to do with the events in last night's episode. ;o) 

Title: Reflections

Author: Lanie 

Category: JC/AL 

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Well, considering this is a post-ep for Chaos Theory…. You figure it out. 

Notes: Apologies in advance to the anti-Carbies. This fic proved a challenge to write, mainly because my creativity is currently being sucked dry by other activities, but I'm never one to turn down a challenge. I'm experimenting with a style that I'm not used to writing, and I think I like it. Of course, I couldn't write anything A/C without some cute Carby banter, so I tried to work that in as well. Special thanks to my beta, who wanted me to write this almost as much as I bad as I wanted to write it. Enjoy. 

I'm chaos to him. 

That's a big expectation to live up to. 

Chaos. Great confusion. Complete disorder. 

On second thought, maybe it's not that big of an expectation.

I look over and watch him pull his shirt over his head, resisting the urge to tell him that it's inside out. He notices my expression and gives me a curious look. I shake my head, laughing lightly, and twist my hair to squeeze the water out of it. It smells like Lake Michigan. I pick up my flip-flops and pad my way through the sand towards him. His gaze meets mine again, and he smiles warmly. I return the gesture, linking my hand with his as we walk back towards Chicago.

Two weeks ago, if you'd told me that I'd be skinny-dipping with John Carter, I would have suggested a psych consult. Funny how things happen when you've got a lot of time on your hands. 

He looks down at me as we walk, asking a question. I'm not hungry, but if he is, I'm sure I've got some stuff at home. I think. I know the eggs will still be good. The milk will be bad, but there's bread. And coffee. He nods, accepting the unspoken invitation.

How did we get here? The last two weeks have been something out of a dream. I can barely wrap my own head around it, yet I'm in the starring role. 

He's drawn to me. Chaos. Unpredictability. I look up at him, trying to read his expression. He looks content. Is he? Probably. I mean, he's said in so many words that he's wanted to be with me for the last two years. He's got what he wants, now. He concurred chaos. Yay, John Carter.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not bitter. Far from it, in fact. The truth is, I'm probably about as content as he is right now. However, unlike John Carter, that single realization is enough to shake me to my very core.

Every single relationship I've ever had has ended. Badly. Except this one. Yet. Sure, it's only been two weeks, and we're still at the can't-keep-our-hands-off-each-other stage. Hell, I practically crawled on top of him when he jumped into the lake with me. Can you blame me? 

Abby the pessimist always seems to out-rule Abby the optimist. I know I need help. But I need no reminders. I need no heroes. 

We drive back to my place in silence. It's comfortable. Always is. There's no urgent need for verbal communication. After all, we have our best conversations without using words.

I don't need to be fixed. I'm not broken. To be broken would imply that I once worked properly, and nothing about my life has ever been proper. It's that simple.

My mother – on one of her better days - once told me that I could have whatever I wanted if I wanted it bad enough. When I was younger, I wanted a normal life. A normal family. A normal childhood.

Maybe I didn't want it bad enough. 

John Carter makes more sense to me than anyone ever has. He knows me. There's this unbelievable connection with him that I haven't shared with anyone else. He sees right through my front. 

He makes me smile. He makes me laugh. I'm happier when I'm with him, and yet, I constantly push him away.

I can feel his fingers trace small patterns on my back as he waits for me to unlock the door. His breath is warm against my neck when he kisses it lightly. I turn and give him a playful look as I twist the knob and push the door open. He laughs, following me inside.

I'm a fool for tormenting him like this. And he's a fool for letting me torment him. It's a vicious cycle, and we both know it, but neither of us does anything about it. 

I drop my bag on the floor and survey my apartment. I think back to the morning two weeks ago when I left for work. Funny, I thought I'd left it cleaner than this. While I walk around picking up discarded accessories, I gesture for him to make himself comfortable. He does, sinking into the couch cushions with a heavy sigh. He leans back and closes his eyes. I guess our little 'swim' wore him out. I watch him for a moment, his chest rising and falling with rhythm. A smile plays on his lips, as if he knows I'm staring. It wouldn't surprise me if he did.

I leave him to his siesta and make my way into the bedroom. I groan inwardly at the mess. Clothing strewn on the floor. The bed half made. Who lives here? I shake my head and tidy up, throwing things into the laundry hamper and smoothing out the comforter. He'd probably get a kick out of this, thinking I was trying to impress him. I am, but I'd never admit it to his face.

A flashing light out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. The answering machine. I try and guess how many messages are waiting for me as I reach to push the 'PLAY' button. I jerk back a little, changing my mind. I'm not ready for reality just yet. 

Entering the bathroom, I straighten a few more things and turn on the faucet. Cupping my hands, I hold them under the stream for a few seconds before bringing them to my face. I close my eyes and enjoy the familiar sensation as the cold water splashes over my cheeks. As if the dive in the lake hadn't woken me up already. Turning off the tap, I pick up the hand towel. Drying myself off, I look at the image reflecting back at me in the mirror. 

Same old Abby? I stare more intently, looking for any signs that indicate a different person. Aside from the hair colour, I find none. Sighing, I hang the towel up and open the medicine cabinet. Scanning the shelves, my eyes land on something vaguely familiar. Pulling the box out, I open it to check the contents, counting the pills on the card. I turn the box over to check the expiry date, and make a mental note to phone for a new prescription. Popping one of the pills out of the card, I swallow it and put the box back on the shelf. I look at my reflection again as I close the medicine cabinet. It's been awhile, hasn't it?

I make my way back to the living room and find him flanked in the same position I left him, one arm behind his head, the other resting across his torso. I smile to myself. He looks so peaceful when he's asleep. Creeping my way towards him, my smile grows when I realize he's playing with me. Silly, Carter. Tricks are for kids. 

An idea dawns on me. I divert my path to the couch at the last second, opting for the scenic route instead. I casually stride around the back, coming to a stop behind him. His face points towards the ceiling, eyes still closed. He knows. Slowly, quietly, I lean down so my head is inches from his. I watch his forehead twitch at my closeness and I fight to hold back a giggle. Leaning over a little more, I tilt my head towards his right ear as I draw in a breath. 

"Rise and shine." 

He opens his eyes and rolls his head to look at me. He's beaming. 

"Hi," I whisper. 

It takes him a moment to find his voice. "I missed you."

I raise my eyebrows. "Did you really?"

"Oh yeah."

"Good." I straighten myself up and turn around, bracing my hands on the back of the couch. "It's nice to be missed." 

His head rises from its resting spot as he shifts his position to look at me. "So…"

I smile at his tentativeness. "So… This is new." 

"Yeah."

We exchange a long, heated look for a few moments before I dare to speak next.

"Um… You said you wanted breakfast."

"I'm not that hungry."

I frown. "But you said…"

He shrugs, giving me the look of an innocent child. "I lied."

Those eyes. 

"Fine. What do you want to do, then?"

He shifts forward, resting a hand over mine. "Oh, I don't know. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. Maybe…" I pretend to gaze off in deep thought. "… Strip poker?"

He lights up, then reconsiders. "Nah, I'm not very good at poker."

I raise an eyebrow coyly. "You don't say…"

"Hey!"

I laugh at his shocked expression. "Well, then, how about you just strip down right now, and I have my way with you?"

He responds by grabbing me by the waist, dragging me over the back of the couch. My head lands in his lap and he leans over so our noses are almost touching. 

"Or, we could both strip and have our way with each other."

I don't recognize the girlish noise I make at his suggestion. "Hmm… That sounds like a good compromise." 

I place my hand on the back of his head and bring his face to mine, our lips locking. His hands cup my cheeks gently as he deepens our passionate encounter. I comb my hand through his hair, dragging my fingers through the tough, coarse mass of it. I try and hold back a giggle, but fail miserably. He pulls away slightly, confused. 

"What?"

I cover my mouth with my free hand, trying to hide my faux pas. He raises an eyebrow. 

"You… You've got sand in your hair." 

He makes a face and brings a hand up to his head. It brushes against mine as he gropes through his hair. 

"Oh. I guess I do." I watch his expression change once more. Great. Way to kill the moment, Abby.

I raise my head up from the comfort of his lap and hoist myself up off the couch. Standing over him, I offer a hand. 

"Come with me."

He looks at me, puzzled, and takes it. "Where are we going?" 

"You'll see." 

I pull him off the couch and lead him across the room to my bedroom. He pauses a little at the door, but I jerk him through it, throwing a look over my shoulder. 

"Abby…"

"Shut up and follow me." 

I lead him through my bedroom and into the bathroom, where I stop and face him once more. I smile seductively and reach for the hem of his T-shirt. He allows me to pull it over his head, and I do so with flourish. I hold the item between us. 

"It was inside out. I had to fix that." I toss the shirt over my shoulder. 

He nods and watches as I reach behind him and pull the shower curtain back. I step forward and yank the taps on, testing the temperature of the water. I pull the lever to turn on the shower, right myself and face him again. His expression is a mix of confusion, more confusion, and expectancy. I giggle outright.

"Are we having a shower?" He asks with much excitement. 

"We? Oh, no. But you are." 

"What?" 

I pull a towel off the rack and sling it over my shoulder. I make to move around him again and he steps to let me pass, still watching me almost too intently. I turn around to face him again, and notice his hand drop to the button of his pants. I jet an arm out to stop him.

"No."

He frowns. "No? But…"

"Just your head," I say, as I detach the showerhead from the wall. He gives me an unsure look, and I smile. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing." I gesture towards the tub. "Bend over."

He pauses for a moment to think about it before heeding to my command, bracing his hands on the side of the tub. Wow, I didn't think it'd be that easy. I place my free hand at the base of his neck as I slowly bring the shower stream over his head. I watch his body tense, then relax, as he adjusts to the warm water. 

"Is it too hot?"

He shakes his head, and I continue to drench his hair. My hand leaves his body for a moment, as I look around for the shampoo, plucking it out of the corner. Juggling the showerhead and the bottle, I manage to pour some into my palm, returning the bottle back to its spot. I glide my hand through his wet tresses, watching as they mingle with the soap in a generous lather. He groans, obviously enjoying the contact, and I smile as I continue massaging his scalp until I'm satisfied that the shampoo has done its job. Bringing the showerhead over him once more, I rinse him off. He waits with patient silence for me to finish my work on him. 

Turning off the taps, I snatch the towel off my shoulder and wrap it loosely around his head.

"Ok, stand up." 

He straightens, wincing a little as he does so. My hands are still on his head, and I use the towel to dry his clean hair, leaving it in a disheveled, damp state when I'm done. 

Draping the towel around his bare shoulders, I look him in the eye and smile triumphantly. "All finished."

He raises his eyebrows and uses a hand to check out my work, smirking with approval.

"Hey, not bad." 

I tip my head to the side. "I told you." 

He laughs and picks up the towel from his shoulders, bringing it to his face. He inhales deeply. 

"Mmm… Smells like you."

I can't help but grin. "Is that a good thing?" 

"Definitely. I love the way your hair smells." 

"Aww." I touch his chest lightly with one hand and use the other one to reach back and retrieve the shampoo bottle off the shelf. I hold it up to him. "It's papaya."

He takes the bottle from my hand, studying the product label. His brow furrows as he scans the directions before finally looking back at me. "You missed a step."

I snatch the bottle out of his hands. "I did not!"

I watch his expression soften as he laughs, wrapping his strong arms around my body, pulling me to him. 

"Yes, you did." 

I angle my head to look at him, conceding. "All right. Which one?"

He smiles silently and kisses my nose lightly. "Lather. Rinse. Repeat."

"Ah. So I did." I gaze up at him as a wicked smile crosses my face. "Don't you think we can find something better to do with our time?"

His eyebrows raise at my inquiry. "Oh… I suppose so." He leans down to kiss me again – this time full on the mouth. It's amazing how this man never fails to take my breath away. He pulls back and brushes a lock of hair away from my face. 

"Too bad we're gonna have to mess up that bed you just made."

My eyes grow wide and I shake my head, laughing. He releases the grip from around my waist and grabs my hand to lead me into the bedroom. I hesitate briefly.

"You go. I'll be right out." 

He looks back with immediate concern. "You sure?"

I bite my bottom lip, nodding. "I'm sure." 

He squeezes my hand before leaving the bathroom, closing the door halfway as he does. I place the shampoo on the shelf, turn around and pick his shirt up off the floor. Bringing it to my nose, I inhale his scent and smile. I catch my reflection in the mirror as I do this, and I'm nearly floored by what I see.

I'm not the same old Abby.

~~~ 

Now it's your turn. Let me know how you think I did with the two styles (the monologue and dialogue) and what I could do to improve my technique. Thanks in advance! 


	2. A Different Kind of Night

Title: A Different Kind of Night

Disclaimer: I own nothing of great value, and that includes Abby, Carter and the other cohorts of ER. Those belong to The Powers That Be and the kind folks at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended. I write because I like to write, and I share because I want to. 

Author's Notes: Mmm… Nothing like a good episode of ER and a pint of Mud Pie ice cream to get you in the mood. ;o) For those who were waiting for chapter two, I hope this meets your expectations. Spoilers for "Insurrection". 

A part of me has always wondered what it would be like to have my life flash before my eyes. You know, in one of those am-I-gonna-live-or-die moments. How long would it take? What would I see? My manic mother? My brother? My accomplishments? My mistakes?

Today was a different kind of day. A strange day. A day unlike any other. Oh yeah, this one's definitely for the diary. Too bad I don't keep one. 

Susan leans over and elbows me in the ribs, jerking her head to indicate the person on her right. I look over in her direction and watch Chen roll down the window clumsily, sticking her head out into the rush of the moving air. We're sitting in the back of a cab, having successfully snagged it as we exited the Shadow Room. I shake my head and laugh at Chen, who's yelling something to the streets of Chicago, and resolve back into my own thoughts. 

Tonight was fun. One of the better ways to end a day like this. Hell, it'd be a good way to end any kind of day. But after a visit from family, a hostage negotiation, an insurrection and a whole lot of the usual and unusual crap, this was just what the doctor ordered. Granted, it's probably not what _my_ doctor would have ordered, and I would probably concur with him. So no one should wonder why I'm in such a hurry to get home.

"This isn't the way to your place. Hey cabby, you're not going the right way."

"Shh!" I whack Susan on the arm lightly. 

She looks at me, shocked. "Oww." She pouts for a second before her senses get the better of her and she dissolves into a fit of giggles.

"You change your route?" The voice of the driver booms from the front. My head snaps towards it. 

"No. No. This is the right way." I look back to Susan, who's struggling to regain control of her oxygen intake. "Thanks a lot." 

"Hey… How was I supposed to know?" She tries her best to put on an innocent face, but can't seem to keep the sly grin from sneaking its way back out. "Looking to get lucky, Abby?"

Her inquiry is enough to arouse Chen. "What's that? Abby's getting lucky?" 

I roll my eyes in exasperation, but brush the comment aside. "You two are wasted." 

"Maybe we are…" Chen studies Susan and then looks back at me. "… But you are, too."

I laugh outright. "Not by a long shot, believe me." 

Chen frowns at my response. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I sigh. "Nothing. Never mind."

She sits back in her spot and considers this for a moment. "Never mind," she mimics and shakes her head, moving on. 

To my dismay, Susan chooses to continue her inquisition. "So I thought you said goodnight already. Why are you going to see him?"

"I didn't say goodnight."

"Sure you did." Chen pipes. "Right before we left the ER, you said 'Goodnight, John.' I heard you." 

I chew my bottom lip. "Oh. Well… I want to surprise him, I guess."

Susan raises her eyebrows, making a rolling 'proceed' motion with her hands. "Yeah… And?" 

"And what?"

"You want to surprise him and what else?"

I frown and shake my head. "I don't know. I just want to see him." I glance over at Susan and Chen, who are staring at me very intently. "Ok?" 

They're silent for a moment or two, and I try to read their expressions. Susan giggles first, followed by Chen. 

I stare at them in puzzled wonder. "What?"

"You want to get lucky!" 

I close my eyes and rest my head against the back of the seat in frustration. Could this cab ride be any longer? "No, I don't!"

Susan attempts to compose herself. "Sure you do. Why else would you go to his apartment at one-thirty in the morning if it wasn't for a booty call?"

Chen bursts into laughter. 

"What the… I'm not…" I look at my watch. "It's only twelve-fifteen!"

"Big deal. It's still a booty call."

"Booty call!"

I shake my head fervently and sigh heavily. "Fine." I throw my hands up in the air. "Fine! It's a booty call. You figured it out." I lean forward and glower at them both. "Congratulations."

The laughter stops, but only for a second. I watch them for a moment before I give in and join them. Sure they can be downright irritating sometimes, but they're my friends and what would I do without them? I lean back against my seat and look out my window as we turn onto his street. 

Sometime during the evening, I was overcome with this incessant urge to be with him. Sure, I knew he was still at work, and I had no particular desire to go back into that hell, but I couldn't shake the need that I wanted us to be sitting next to each other, alone together. No patients. No coworkers. No med-students. No bosses. No brothers. Just Abby and John. John and Abby. 

This isn't a booty call. It's something… different.

The cab stops in front of his building and I waste no time getting out. I turn around as I step onto the curb, leaning over to peer inside at my inebriated friends.

"You two gonna to be okay?" 

The giggles subside as they look up at me with eyes glazed, confused expressions splashed across their faces, as if they don't understand what I'd just asked them. The silence is broken seconds later as more laughter erupts from Chen. This is enough to set Susan off again, doubling over in her seat, her hair falling into her lap. I stand there for a moment watching them before I clear my throat.

"Excuse me…"

Susan's head flips up again and she inhales a long, ragged breath as she looks at me. 

"Yes, Mother. We'll be fine." She glares at me with mock seriousness, before collapsing into laughter once more. I shake my head as I stand and begin to close the car door.

"… Have fun." I hear just before the latch catches. 

I step aside and knock on the cabby's window. He rolls it down, looking up at me. I hand him my part of the fare. 

"Make sure they actually get inside."

The driver nods and takes the money, rolling his window back up. I step away from the curb and watch him pull away, disappearing around the corner a few moments later. Sighing, I turn to face the building I'm standing outside of. I squint against the streetlight, looking upwards at the window I know is his. I smile when I see the hint of light shining from behind the curtain. So I won't be able to surprise him, after all.

I use the key he gave me and let myself into the building. These days I'm struck by how comfortable I feel entering an apartment that isn't mine. It's a routine that's become almost instinctive. I get off late, or even early, and my first thought is to come back here and be with him. I can't even remember the last time I spent more than one night alone at my place. 

We're always together. Do I mind? I haven't yet.

Tonight feels like an elevator night, so I make my way up to his floor by way of Otis. The hallway greets me as I step off the lift, and in less than ten steps I'm standing outside his door. I fumble for my keys once more, searching for the right one. I place my hand on the doorknob and to my surprise, it rotates. I smile. He was expecting me. 

I push open the door and am greeted by the familiar ambiance that I've grown to welcome… even crave. The front room is illuminated only by the small floor lamp in the corner by the bookshelf, the room empty of any human presence. I notice his keys and wallet lying on the table beside the door, and I place my bag underneath it. Kicking off my shoes and shrugging out of my jacket, I hang it inside the closet door. I run my hands over the one hanging next to it and deduce that he hasn't been home very long.

I find him sitting at the table in the kitchen, a coffee mug in his hands, his eyes cast downwards. I lean against the doorframe and watch him for a moment or two.

"Hi." 

He looks up, frowning. Surprised, maybe? I thought he knew I would come. His expression softens when his eyes meet mine. 

"Hey. I didn't hear you come in." 

I push myself away from the doorway and make my way towards him. He looks exhausted. I brush my hand across his cheek gently, leaning down to give him a kiss. 

"I didn't know if you'd be asleep already."

He sighs. "I just got home." 

"I see that." I smile. "Did you get everything done?"

He nods weakly. "Barely." He leans forward on the table, playing with the cup in front of him.

"Did you make enough for two?"

"Of course." 

I laugh lightly and travel over to the coffee maker. I retrieve my own mug – yes, I have one of those, too – and fill it. "Is this decaf?"

"Yeah." 

I put the pot back in its resting spot and return to the table with my coffee, sitting across from him. His head is propped in his hand now, his chin bobbing up and down slightly as he looks at me. 

"Did you have fun tonight?"

I take a sip of my coffee and nod. "Yeah. Though not as much as Chen and Susan." 

He raises his eyebrows at my revelation. "Really? What happened?"

I drop my head a little in coyness. "I was sworn to secrecy, sorry." I throw him a playful look to show him I'm kidding, hoping to get some animated reaction in return.

He complies, laughing and shaking his head. I realize that's the first smile I've gotten out of him since I got home. 

"So… What are you still doing up?"

He inhales deeply and leans back in his chair, stretching. "Waiting up for you?" 

"Aw shucks." I wink in his direction, a gesture that always amuses him. "You've had a long day, I wouldn't have minded."

He rises from his chair, taking his empty mug to the sink. "Your day has been just as long as mine." 

I consider this briefly, tipping my head to the side. "I didn't stage a department-wide walkout." 

He turns around, leaning back against the counter. "You participated in one." 

I scoff. "Hardly." 

He glances over and we exchange a silent look for several seconds. I'm the first who dares to break the trance, looking across the table at a sheet of paper. I hadn't noticed it earlier. Must have been what he was musing over when I came in. 

I nod my head in the direction of the paper. "What's this?" 

He opens his mouth to answer, then closes it. He looks to the sheet, and then back at me. "It's a list." 

"Can I see?" 

He shrugs and nods. I reach across the table and slide the paper towards me. I recognize it immediately. "This is a blank nurses' schedule."

He nods again. "Yup." 

I frown. "What do you need a blank nurses' schedule for?"

"It's a list."

"A list of what?"

"Nurses." 

I sigh in frustration. If he's playing with me, I don't find it funny. "I know that, John. What do you need a list of nurses for?"

He stares at me for a moment, as if he's unsure of his response. I pick up the sheet to look at it more closely, and notice several notes beside the names listed there. "John?" I look back up at him. "Tell me."

Pushing himself away from the counter, he approaches me and takes the paper from my hand, looking at it sadly. 

"I have to fire three nurses."

I stare at him in disbelief. "What?"

He sighs. "As an offset to the metal detectors and the construction costs. Weaver wants me to pick three senior nurses to let go." 

"Oh." My eyes drift downwards. "Wow." 

"Yeah." 

I will my gaze to meet his once more. "That's a pretty big decision." 

He looks at the paper again. "Yeah."

"What… What are you going to do?"

He glances at me, and I can see the hurt in his expression. "What else can I do?" 

My heart falls right there. I rise slowly out of my chair and stand before him. I pull the paper slowly out of his hands and put it back on the table. His eyes follow its path. I bring my hands back to cup his face, angling it so he's looking right at me. 

My voice is barely a whisper. "You did a good thing today."

His eyes are pained. "Did I?"

I nod once sharply. "Yes."

He sighs heavily and covers my hands with his own, lifting them off his face. He kisses my palms lightly. 

"I know." 

I smile reassuringly. "You need to get some sleep."

He nods. "I think we both do." 

I pull out of his grasp and reach behind me for my coffee cup. I move towards the sink, but he stops me and takes the mug out of my hands. 

"You go. I'll be right there." 

I tip my head. "Are you sure?"

He nods silently. I squeeze his arm lightly and reach up to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

"Thanks for waiting up," I say softly and turn to leave, giving him the space he needs to make his choice. 

I wander down the hallway and into the darkness of the bedroom. Working my way to the bed, I turn on the lamp on the nightstand, partially illuminating the room with its glow. Moving around, I pick my pajamas up off the bench at the foot of the bed and pad into the master bathroom. I flip on the light and set the clothing on the toilet seat. I straighten myself and look into the mirror. God, I look about five years older than I did this morning. I sigh and pick my toothbrush up, wetting it before applying a generous portion of paste. I stick it in my mouth and begin to work the brush over my teeth, stopping every half-minute or so to spit. I rinse once and wash out the sink, leaving the tap on and filling the basin with warm water afterwards. I pick up the washcloth and the soap and proceed to scrub my face, attempting to bring some life back into my features. I rinse again and pull the plug, grabbing the hand towel off its hook and drying myself off. I catch my reflection again. It's an improvement, though barely. Probably just because I am tired. Days like today aren't the norm in my life, despite what others may think.

I pull my shirt over my head, throwing it aside, and unbutton my jeans, stepping out of them. I grab my tank top from the pile on the seat and slip it over my head. My cotton bottoms are cool against my skin as I slide them up my legs, adjusting the elastic so the top of them rests over my hips. I realize this is more than what I've usually gone to bed wearing in the last couple of months, but I'm already feeling that tonight is different from any other night I've spent with him. I pull my hair back into a sloppy ponytail and secure it with the hair elastic I find sitting next to the soap dish. Taking another look at myself in the mirror, I change my mind and pull the elastic out, setting it back beside the soap dish. Giving my reflection a passing grade, I pick up my street clothes and return to the bedroom. 

I set my top and jeans on the chair beside the armoire and pull back the covers on the bed. I climb in and bring the sheet and blanket up around my waist. Turning around, I move the pillows up against the headboard and lean back so I'm in a half-sitting, half-laying position. I draw my knees partway up underneath the covers and place my hands on my stomach. Closing my eyes, I allow my mind to wander, waiting for him.

My thoughts drift back to the visit from Eric. He looked good, and despite the fact that I wish he had come on a better day, I was glad to see him. Even if it was just for a few minutes. He always had timing, even as a kid. I remember he had a knack for catching me – on a number of occasions - doing things I shouldn't have been doing. Making out with my boyfriend in my bedroom, smoking behind the garage. I could always count on him to show up and ruin the fun. And yet, he never busted me for it. 

He was just a little kid when Mom was finally diagnosed, and suddenly everything in our lives was changing. Dad chose to run. Away from his faulty family. His responsibilities. His obligation to us. Mom was devastated. Eric was confused. I was the oldest, and suddenly it felt like the weight of the world rested on my narrow shoulders. I grew up. Fast. Faster than any of my friends, as I realized when they began to segregate themselves from me. Poor Abby. Abby with the crazy mother.

The last thing I wanted in my life was for Eric to experience the same things I was going through. And so I protected him. I tried to convince him that everything was normal. Mom's ok, Eric. She just gets tired. Go play with your friends. Have fun. Don't worry too much. Let that be my job.

My job.

He goes out on top secret, undercover missions for the Air Force. He's the one who disappears and doesn't call for weeks at a time. He's the one who flies God-knows where and does God-knows what kinds of dangerous things. And I'm the one who has to defend my career choice. Did someone say something about irony?

I sigh and open my eyes, directing them towards the ceiling. I dare not to look at the clock and see what time it is. We should be sleeping by now. It's been a long, strange day. We should be sleeping...

As if on cue, I hear him come into the bedroom. After a short pause, I hear him set his clothes on the bench, and feel the shift of the bed as he sits down on the edge. I force my body to sit up so I can see him better. His back is to me, and I move a little more so I'm sitting behind him. My hands creep around his neck and I pull him towards me in an embrace, kissing the back of his head as I do so.

"All finished?" 

He remains silent, looking straight ahead for a few moments before nodding slowly. I watch as his hands stroke my arms gently, his fingertips barely touching my skin in that way that sends shivers down my spine. If it had been any other night, I would be all over him by now. But tonight is different.

He unwraps my arms from around his body, reaches to turn off the lamp, and moves to get under the covers. I scoot over, giving him room to settle, and he lies down, dragging the covers up around him. I'm still sitting up, and he encircles my waist with an arm, pulling me down beside him. I let my head fall to rest on his chest and he begins to stroke my hair. I close my eyes and inhale his scent, smile, and will myself to delve into a peaceful slumber. 

I'm almost there when I hear him call my name. I raise my head from the comfort of his body and rest my chin on his chest, looking at him. 

"What?"

"Were you scared?"

I give myself a moment to let the question resonate, my eyes searching his for that match of emotion. 

"Yeah. I was." There it is. "Were you?"

"Very." 

His voice cracks just the slightest on this word, and I bite my lip to keep the tears back. I reach up then and lightly brush the back of my hand across his cheek. He continues to stroke my hair. 

"Would you… I mean, if you could… Would you want to work anywhere else?"

I smile weakly at his question. "Are you firing me, Dr. Carter?"

"Abby…"

"No." I state flatly, firmly. "I love my job." 

He accepts my answer, and for a moment I think I detect a hint of relief in his expression. I stretch upwards and plant a small kiss on his lips before I settle back into his embrace, my head finding its spot on his chest.

"Night, John-Boy." 

I feel him sigh heavily underneath me, his arms wrapping tighter around my body, holding me closer to him. As if that was possible. 

"Night, Abby."

And I realize that we've taken it to the next level. For at this moment, the need to physically be with each other is not as great as the need to be with each other mentally, emotionally. This I can give him, now, as my eyes grow heavy and sleep descends upon us both. I can feel his breathing slow into rhythmic measure with mine, our hearts beating in harmony. 

Tonight is a different kind of night. 

~~~


	3. To Be Close To Him

Title: To Be Close To Him

Disclaimer: I own nothing of great value, and that includes Abby, Carter and the other cohorts of ER. Those belong to The Powers That Be and the kind folks at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended. I write because I like to write, and I share because I want to.

Notes: Long time no update. Heh. Blame it on the fact that my life is rather busy right now, and that I'm just getting over a little 'bout of the block. But enough about me…

Spoilers for "Walk Like A Man". And because I'm so generous, this chapter is supersized and serves as a two-for-one. Not only is it the next installment in my "Reflections" series, it doubles as a companion to my WLAM additional-scene fic, "Stay". Pretty convenient, huh? And to think, all this can be yours for three easy payments of $39.95. Plus, if you call within the next ten minutes…

Enjoy. 

****

"I didn't mean to leave like that. It just… seemed kind of complicated and I wanted to give it time to figure out where we were."

  
I let his words linger for a moment as I glance away. I take another step down towards him. I need to be close to him. 

"Here we are."

I smile and he reciprocates the expression with enthusiasm. My eyes leave his briefly as I roll them to the side playfully and then look back at him. He's still smiling. And waiting.

"Umm… I think this is the part where you kiss me." 

He raises his eyebrows. "You think so?"

I nod silently, and shrug, my own smile unwavering. 

He climbs the last step so he's beside me, and I shift myself to face this new direction. "Well… If you insist."

He hesitates a moment longer, just for effect, and I seize the opportunity, grabbing the tie that hangs loosely around his neck. I yank him downwards till our noses touch. 

"I definitely insist." My voice is breathy between us, and I quickly close the distance between his lips and mine, engaging them in a passionate battle. I can feel him grin into the kiss as he draws his arms around me, pulling my body to his, deepening our romantic tete-a-tete. His tongue seeks immediate entry, as usual. My lips part willingly, as usual. My hand continues to grip his tie while the other slides itself up the side of his body to his face, my fingers grazing his cheek. I never get tired of touching him this way.

We part several seconds later, slightly winded. I smile seductively at him, fingering his chin, before I wag a single digit in front of his face. "I can't believe you needed prompting." 

He laughs a little and nips at my finger. "I really don't know what came over me."

"Would you care to…" I pause and raise an eyebrow. "… Take this inside?"

His response is typical. "Do you even have to ask?" 

I release my capture on his tie, grab his hand, turn around and lead him up the last couple of steps to the landing. My free hand resumes its search for my keys. I know I have them, they've been banging against my side all the way home. Damn I hate this coat.

A familiar jingle catches my attention and I draw my head up, coming face-to-face with a shiny ring set dangling in front of me. I frown and look up at him. "How did you…"

He smirks and leans in to give me a kiss on the forehead. "Right front pocket. Like always."

I laugh and shake my head, snatching the keys off his finger, and turn to unlock the door. Unfortunately, this means I have to drop his hand, and I do with reluctance, giving it a squeeze. He responds by encircling his arms around my waist and burying his face in the curve of my neck. I can feel him inhale deeply against me, and I smile at the movement of his chest against my back. My hands manage to find the key and the lock at the same time, and in seconds I have it open. I look down at my human teddy bear and cup a hand to the side of his head. He raises it and loosens his grip around my waist as I guide him across the threshold and into the building.

It has occurred to me that I've never actually had make-up sex before. At least, not technically. Richard and I fought all the time, so much so that if the phrase "make-up sex" was used to call whatever intimacy we shared after we resolved – or pushed aside – the issue, it would have quickly lost its meaning. Luka and I hardly communicated. Thus we rarely fought. Well, almost rarely. There was that one time. But I digress.

I'm looking forward to having real, true make-up sex. With him. I mean, I'd take any kind of sex with John Carter over no sex with John Carter. I do feel bad that we fought, if only because I hate any kind of distance from him. 

I look up at him as we climb the stairs to my apartment. Somewhere between the door and here, his hand found mine again and he's stroking the back of it gently with his thumb. I love it when he does this. 

"Do you realize what happened today?"

He looks down at me, curiously. I was sure he'd have figured it out by now. "What?" 

"We had our first fight."

"Oh." That's all he says. I sneak a glance out of the corner of my eye. He's got that serious look on his face, the one I always tease him about.

I realize how quickly I came to losing him tonight. There I was, naïve Abby, willing to take for granted the fact that he cares too much about me to have ended what we have over a few stupid drinks. How much did it hurt to watch him leave me standing there? Almost as painful as it was to see the disappointment in his eyes when he did.

I know I did more bad than good by keeping my drinking a secret. I knew how he would react and I wasn't ready to deal with the ramifications. The disappointment. So I took the easy way out.

And look where it got us.

I unlock my apartment door and open it, leading him inside. He drops my hand as we enter, and I lazily throw my keys on the end table. Flipping on a light and slipping off my coat, I turn around and find him standing there, barely inside the doorway, watching me. I study him, too. The rumpled hair, that hint of five-o'clock shadow. Shirt untucked, tie askew in the collar. I don't think that look has left his face in the last minute-and-a-half. 

I tip my head to the side. "Would you like to come in?" I smile, hoping to break the sudden tension.

He rests his bag beside the door and closes the distance between us. In an act that I pray doesn't look desperate, I reach out and pull him to me, wrapping my arms around his torso in a hug. Just to be close to him. He responds, softening, resting his chin atop my head.

"I'm sorry." My voice is barely a whisper, but I know he hears it.

"Me too."

I pull back a little and look up at him. "Really?"

He nods, caressing my shoulders with his hands. "I didn't mean the things I said."

"Yes you did."

He looks at the ceiling and lets out a long breath. "Abby… I don't want to…"

I withdraw my arms from around his body, stepping away from him. He looks back down at me, concerned. 

"… What?"

I shake my head. "I don't want to fight, either. I'm sorry. But you shouldn't have to take anything back. That's not how this works. That's not how I want this to work."

He smiles a little. "Okay."

I bite my lip and return his smile. Moments of silence pass and we're simply looking at each other. It isn't until something inside me calls out that I remember my earlier proposition. 

"Are you hungry?"

His grin widens. "I could eat."

I laugh and begin to make my way to the kitchen, batting his chest lightly as I pass. "Is Chinese all right?"

"I guess. But I thought you said burgers? Shakes…" He drifts off for a moment. "I mean, we can have whatever, but I was kind of hoping…" 

I retrieve my collection of takeout menus from their place between the flour and sugar canisters and return to the living room, flipping through the stack. 

"I don't know… I kind of don't feel like going…" I look up from the flyers and see him lounging on the couch, sans jacket and shoes. "…out." 

He smirks. "Yeah, me neither, but I still want a burger. And fries. And a shake."

I tip my head and raise and eyebrow. "Anything else?" 

He thinks for a moment, looking at me with those little-boy eyes that just make me melt. "Just you."

"Aww."

He shrugs. "It's true."

I sigh, and after a few moments, manage to tear my eyes away from his and back to the flyers. "Well, I don't see any menus here that offer burgers, fries, shakes and sex." I look back at him and wink. "I guess we're just going to have to venture out."

He laughs and pushes himself off the couch, grabbing the phone off the end table. 

"I've got an idea…"

"What is it?"

He heads into the kitchen and I start to follow him. He turns around quickly and suddenly, forcing my body to come to an abrupt halt against his.

"Hey…" 

He puts a hand on my shoulder to steady me and spins me around to face the opposite direction. "You just go... Leave this to me."

I throw him a look over my shoulder. "You sure?"

He's already dialing. "Absolutely."

"Okay…" 

What is he up to?

I shake my head and wander into my bedroom, leaving him to carry out his secret little mission. I begin to busy myself, putting things away and folding some neglected laundry, I can hear his voice in the next room, talking to whomever he's called. I'm tempted to turn around and hide inside the doorway to find out what he's got up his sleeve, but I quickly brush the urge aside. I know he's trying to impress me, so maybe I should play along. If I know him, I'll probably enjoy whatever it is. 

I pick up a stack of clean towels and head towards the bathroom. I put them in their place, turn around and face the sink. Pulling the clip out of my hair, I toss my head from side to side and run my fingers through it. I groan as they catch on a few knots. Great. The rain did nothing for it. I grab my brush and pass it through my hair rapidly as I try to work out the kinks. Putting the bush down, I comb my fingers through the tresses again. They pass through cleanly this time and I remind myself to double up on the conditioner tomorrow morning.

I look at my reflection in the mirror. What do I see? 

Addict.

John Carter is my habit. I know it sounds ridiculously corny, but it's true. Who needs to drink when you can come home night after night and wrap yourself around this man?

Apparently, I do. 

Vices.

I stopped smoking three months ago. Just up and quit. Actually, it came as a dare. During the lockdown, he bet me fifty bucks that I wouldn't be able to go two weeks without a cigarette. Of course, it wasn't like I had a choice. Still, he helped by keeping my brain and my body… shall we say… busy, so that I rarely even thought about lighting up. And since, well… It's become a game. The longer we last, the longer I last. 

The longer I last. I wish I could say the same thing about other things. 

Really, I don't know why I'm drinking, so don't bother asking. But it's not a vice. It's just… a thing I do.

I can stop anytime. But why? It's not like I'm out of control.

Right?

So, when you think about it, I really only have one real addiction. Once vice. John Carter.

I emerge from the bedroom to find him sitting back on the couch, a satisfied grin on his face. 

"All done?"

"You bet."

I sit next to him, crossing one leg underneath me. I raise an eyebrow. "And?"

"And the food will be here in half-an-hour."

I frown. "From where?"

"Ahh…" He smiles mischievously. "…You'll find out."

I shake my head in wonder. "You're rotten, do you know that?"

He responds by grabbing my arm, pulling me to him. 

"Am I? Well, perhaps we should see just how rotten we can be together. I reckon we have half-an-hour to amuse ourselves. Any ideas?"

I lick my lips and lean in close. "I suppose I can think of a few options that are available to us."

He meets me in the middle, kissing my nose. "Good. Feel free to demonstrate them on me, then."

"Don't mind if I do…"

***

"Nurse Manager?"

We're sitting at opposite ends of the couch, facing each other. Our food, courtesy of DocMagoo's, is nearly devoured. Takeout remnants in the form of wrappers and Styrofoam containers are all that remain of our burgers, fries and shakes. Looks like I lived up to my promise. 

I nod, swallowing my last French fry. "Yeah."

He raises an eyebrow. "Really?" He sits up and puts his empty cup on the coffee table.

"Yes."

"Hmm."

I sigh. "What?"

"Nothing… I just…" He looks away quickly, trying to hide a smile. 

I shake my head in disbelief. "You knew."

He turns back slowly, guiltily. 

I sit up abruptly, nearly throwing my own shake at him. "You knew!"

He laughs at my expression. "Yeah."

"For how long?"

"This morning."

"This morning? Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugs. "I forgot?"

I huff, looking away. "Yeah, right."

He frowns. "Are we fighting?" 

I look back at him, my eyebrows raised. "Do you want to fight?" 

He sighs and leans forward, clearing his throat. "Abby." 

I glare at him in response. To be truthful, I'm not that mad. I just like to get him riled up. It's what I do.

"Abby. I'm sorry. I just…" He drifts off, trying to come up with an excuse. I soften a little and relax against the cushions again.

"It's just that, we were talking about… The other thing, and I guess I got a little distracted." He looks up at me, a pained look in his eyes. 

He's serious. 

"Oh." My gaze drifts to the cup in my hands. "Okay."

There's a pause and I hear him take a deep breath and shift closer to me. 

"Abby." 

I sigh again and bring my eyes up to meet his. "We need to talk."

"Yes, we do."

I unfold my legs out from underneath me and place my cup on the coffee table. Sitting up straight, I fold my hands in my lap and take a deep breath.

"John…"

"Did you mean what you said?"

I look up at him, frowning. "What?"

He shifts closer. "Earlier… At the El station. Did you mean what you said to me?"

I don't follow his thought. "About…"

"Are you really happy? With me?"

I open my mouth to answer, but something holds me back. He doesn't believe me? "Why… Why would you think I wouldn't mean that?"

He swallows slowly. "You're drinking…"

"And you think I drink because I'm not happy with you?" 

He shakes his head and stares up at the ceiling. He's frustrated, and really, I don't blame him. 

"You did it last time. You did it with Richard." His eyes fall back towards me. "You told me that you drink to hide your real feelings."

"Oh. I guess I did say that." I bite my lip. Damn it, what have I done?

It's his turn to study his hands. "I'm sorry I left like that… I just… I couldn't stand there any longer and listen to you say that you were happy with me if you didn't mean it."

"I mean it."

His head snaps up. "Do you really?"

The expression on his face makes me want to cry. The disappointment, the confusion, the devotion…

I can feel the tears well up in my eyes. No. I fight them. I cannot cry. Not now. Not yet. 

There's something I want to say.

He's watching me. 

"I have to tell you something…"

He sits up immediately, concerned. "You can tell me anything."

I nod and shift my position on the couch, so I'm facing him. "I… I haven't been entirely truthful to you."

He stares at me intently. "Ok…"

I'm silent for a moment, allowing time for my thoughts to arrange themselves in my head. This needs to be done. Now. He's waited long enough.

I bow my head. I don't know why… It just feels right. 

"The last three months have been… Incredible. I can't remember a time when I've felt this content, this… Comfortable, this… Protected.

"I feel safe with you. I know that as long as I'm with you, nothing will ever harm me. I'm happy with you, John."

I roll my eyes up to look at him. I want to see his reaction. 

"You ask me why I'm drinking, and to be perfectly honest with you… I really don't know why. Except that, for the first time in my life, I feel normal. I feel right. I feel… I feel like this is the way it should be. You and I. Us." 

I sigh. "I have never felt like this about anyone."

There's more silence after this. I'm not finished, but I can't bring myself to go on. I need to know what he thinks…

And I guess he wants more, because he speaks next.

"Felt like what, Abby?" 

I draw my head up now, and look into his eyes. There's that match of emotion again. It's so clear. 

He knows. He's always known.

"Love."

The tears venture their way back again, except now I care not to fight them. I close my eyes and let them spill over onto my cheeks.

No. There won't be anymore fighting tonight.

I can feel his hands cup my face, tilting it upwards. My tears slide between his fingers as they caress my cheeks.

"You don't have to be afraid to cry in front of me, Abby."

I shake my head. "I'm not."

He pulls my head forward and I can feel his lips come to rest in the middle of my forehead. I shift closer on the couch so that I'm right next to him now. 

And still, I'm not close enough.

Pulling my head upwards, I open my eyes, bringing my hands to my face, wiping away the last of my tears. His hands slide to rest at the back of my head and mine find their spot resting on his forearms. I sniff lightly and smile at him.

"I meant what I said earlier," I say softly.

He nods. "I know."

And then, suddenly, I feel him move away from me. This throws me for a moment, as I'm still caught up in the aftermath of my declaration. I shake my head to clear it, and glance towards the end of the couch. He's settling back in the corner and he reaches over, taking one of my hands, pulling me to him. I slide my body over, dragging my feet up onto the cushions. I rest my head on his chest and he wraps a strong arm around me, drawing me further into his embrace.

But still, it's not close enough. 

I sigh and settle into his chest. "Thank-you."

"For what?"

"For coming back."

He's quiet for a moment. 

"I'm drawn to you, Abby. It's not something I can explain anymore. But I can't promise that it's always going to be smooth sailing, because I know it won't be."

"Me too."

"And I can't promise that I won't ever hurt you, because I'm human. I make mistakes."

"I know."

"But I can promise you this…"

I pull my head up and gaze up at him, watching. Waiting.

"I'm always going to be here for you. I won't push you or preach to you. I know you don't need that. But I will support you in every way I know how. And not because I want to fix you. Because I want to be with you, and because I don't anticipate ever not wanting to be with you."

"Oh."

"Abby, I'm scared, too. I've never felt this way about anyone, either. But it's okay. We don't have to hide from each other. Not anymore."

I nod, a couple more tears sliding down my cheek. I bring my hand up to wipe them away, but he's faster, his hand lingering on my cheek. I turn my head and kiss his palm.

"Do you always know the right thing to say?"

He laughs lightly. "Rarely."

I smile a little and rest my head on his chest again. Silence creeps in then, and we remain there for several moments. He strokes my hair and I busy myself with the buttons on his shirt. Neither one of us wants to speak - for fear that more conversation will break the spell. However, there's only so much of this I can take. I need to be closer to him.

"Hey."

"Yes?"

"Will you do me a favour?"

"Anything."

I raise my head and look up at him. "Make love to me?"

He smiles. "There's nothing I'd rather do more."

***

This man. 

He's amazing. 

I can't believe he's with me right now. Loving me. Making love to me. With me.

It's heaven. 

The bed sheets are tangled around us, clinging to our naked bodies. And we cling to each other, but not out of fear. Not out of desire. Out of joy. Happiness.

Happiness.

Because we are.

He's long since drifted off, but I'm wide-awake. My head rests against his chest, and I can hear his heart beating a slow, steady rhythm. 

It's music to my ears.

Before tonight, I never knew what it felt like to have real, true make-up sex. I don't have to wonder anymore, because I've done it with John Carter. The man I've shared so many other firsts with. The man I plan on sharing many more firsts with.

Call the others practice, but there's one thing for sure. This is it for me. I'm done.

I've found him.

I'm so caught up in my own reverie that I don't hear the first ring. But he does. 

I can feel him stir at the noise. 

*RING*

"Abby… "

I snuggle in response "Hmmm…"

"Abby… Phone."

*RING*

He moves to grab the phone off the nightstand.

"Don't get it."

"Why not?"

I sigh, opening my eyes slowly. "Because."

*RING*

He raises an eyebrow. "Abby?"

I lift my head lazily, resting my chin on his shoulder, one eye on him, one eye on the phone. "It's nobody I want to talk to right now."

*RING*

"Maybe it's work."

I sigh again and bury my face in his chest, kissing it lightly. "They'll leave a message."

We lay there for a few seconds, waiting for the next ring. It never comes.

He glances at the phone. "They hung up."

I nod and close my eyes, tightening my grip around his torso.

"They didn't want leave a message?" 

I tilt my head to look at him again. "Guess not." I smile sweetly and lay my head back down. Have I mentioned how much I love being this close to him?

"But…"

"Carter?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

We drift into a content silence once more, choosing to enjoy the quiet of this time together. I use my index finger to trace circles around his stomach through the sheet. He's combing his fingers through my hair, kissing the top of my head as he does so. After a few moments, I raise my head and hoist myself further up the bed so my face rests inches from his.

He brushes a finger across my cheek. "Hi."

I close my eyes at his touch. "Mmm… Hi."

He kisses me lightly, his lips lingering on mine for a couple of seconds before pulling away. "What time is it?"

I roll over to look at the clock. "A quarter past who cares." 

He chuckles. "We do have to work tomorrow."

I roll over on my back. "Argh… Don't remind me."

"Bright and early." He teases. 

I tilt my head to the side to look at him. "You'd better be careful… I might just take back everything we just did."

"Aw, come on now…" He shifts his position so he's hovering right over me, his arms resting on either side of my body. "That's not how this works."

I make a face. "Who said that?"

"My girlfriend." He leans in to kiss my forehead.

I nod a little in understanding. "I see… Smart woman." 

"Smart…" 

His lips move from one cheek…

"Sexy…" 

To the other…

"Funny…"

He kisses the bridge of my nose…

"Beautiful…"

My chin…

"Talented…"

"Talented?" 

He leans in deeper and nuzzles one ear…

"Oh yeah…"

"What else?"

Nuzzles the other ear…

"Well…" He draws back, looking at me full on, his brown eyes smoldering. "She's just… Amazing." 

I smile. "And?" 

He throws me a look of mock surprise. "Isn't amazing enough?"

I brush the back of my hand across his cheek. "And?"

He sighs. "And… I love her." 

"Mmm…" I close my eyes and take a moment to enjoy the word. Love. "Good answer. This girlfriend of yours, she's a lucky girl."

"The luckiest. But I'm even luckier."

I raise my eyebrows. "Are you?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

"Because…." He licks his lips, and leans in again. "I get to do this." 

His lips touch mine a split second later, and he lowers his weight around me. I wrap my arms around his neck, drawing him even deeper into the embrace. The physical contact may have been enough to satisfy me in the past, but there's this newfound sensation that has entered in, and I realize that it's something I'm never going to want to be without. 

It's true love.

"Abby?"

"Hmm?" I look up at him, and realize he's watching me very intently, a look of concern washing over his face. His thumb massages my cheek gently.

"You looked… far away. What were you thinking about?"

I sigh and smile. "You. Us."

He returns my smile. "And?"

"And… I love you, John." 

***

AN: I really wanted to put off the whole "I love you" thing until The Powers That Be wrote it into the show, but I got a little tired of waiting. It's been three months, one would assume they'd have exchanged these words by now. I don't think the writers will gyp us this time (unlike they did with their, ahem, first "time") and it will be wonderful. But whatever. If it happens on the show, you can forget everything you read here. Ok? Stay tuned. :o) 


	4. Mirrored Here

Title: Mirrored Here

Disclaimer: I own nothing of great value, and that includes Abby, Carter and the other cohorts of ER. Those belong to The Powers That Be and the kind folks at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended. I write because I like to write, and I share because I want to.

Notes: Ok, so I've got it on good authority that the next few weeks are going to be heavy for Abby, which means I'll probably be writing a post-ep after each episode for awhile. Yippee for you, more work for Lanie. ;o) I'm also back in class now, so bear with me if the chapters are not as long or as spectacular as they have been.

Your feedback and support have been encouraging. This series is as much mine as it is yours. 

Spoilers for "One Can Only Hope". It's still Abby's PoV, but I've strayed from the internal monologue for this one. Don't worry, it'll be back next time! I wanted to have some fun with this. 

There they are. The two most important men in my life. Some women aren't fortunate enough to have even one, and here I am taking more than my fair share. I'm lucky. 

Greedy, but lucky.

"Hey, you know what we should do?"

Eric turns around to face us, stepping out in front of Jodie as he does. She stops suddenly, swaying forward into him, and giggles. 

I glance up at Carter and roll my eyes as we come to a stop beside them. He notices my expression and smiles, squeezing my hand. 

Eric looks at us. "You know what we should do?" 

I raise my eyebrows. "What?"

"The Ferris Wheel."

I groan. Carter laughs. 

"Come on. It'll be fun." Eric looks at Jodie. "Right?" She nods, and he kisses her nose. 

I look up at Carter. He gives me his 'whatever-you-want' face, and shrugs. I sigh.

"Do you mind if I skip out?"

Eric raises an eyebrow in surprise. "Really?" 

I nod. "Yeah."

"But you love rides."

"I do?"

"You used to. What's the matter?" He grins devilishly. "Chicken?"

I glare at my baby brother. "No. Just… Tired."

Jodie pipes up. "It's not a very fast ride. It's actually kind of romantic." She gazes up at Eric, smiling sweetly. He mouths something to her and winks. They laugh. 

Carter clears his throat. "I think I'll sit this one out, too."

Eric glances up, and the two men in my life exchange a look. Carter raises his eyebrows as if to indicate some underlying reason for backing out. Eric smiles and nods his head knowingly.

"Ah. I get it. Sure. Sure…" He looks back at Jodie. "Come on, let's go. The line's not that long."

Eric pulls her towards the ride. She throws us a glance over her shoulder. "See you guys later!"

I watch them walk away, bumping off each other like kids on a playground. I shake my head and exhale loudly, looking up at the man still standing beside me. I frown. "What was that?"

He's smiling. "You've got to admit, it is cute."

"What?"

He looks down at me. "Them. They're cute."

I make a face and shrug, looking back at my brother and his girlfriend standing in line, arms wrapped around each other. 

"They're drunk."

"They had one beer."

"Each." I look back up at him. "She's not even twenty-one, yet."

He ticks his head from side to side. "True."

I turn my head again and watch Eric and Jodie board a gondola. "Did you want to go on the ride? Because if you do… "

"You don't want to." 

"I know. But if you do, I would go." I smile at him. "Jodie did say it was romantic."

"Anything I do with you is romantic."

I laugh. "Laying it on thick tonight, are we?"

"I try."

My giggles subside, but I take a moment to reach up and plant a small kiss on his lips. He looks down at me as I pull back, eyebrows raised.

"What was that for?"

I shrug. "Love makes you do crazy things."

"Crazy?"

"Maybe."

He nods smiling, and looks around. I follow his gaze, trying to figure out what he's searching for. I open my mouth to ask him just that, when I suddenly feel him pull away, tugging me along with him. I try not to stumble over my feet as I skip to keep up with him. 

"Where are we going?"

He pulls my hand closer to his body. "You'll see."

"Carter…"

"Trust me." 

"I do." 

He glances down at me and smiles. "Good." Looking away briefly, he inhales a breath before swinging out in front of me. I'm startled to a halt, bracing my hand on his chest to keep myself from falling forward. 

"Okay."

I frown. "Okay what?"

He smirks a little, staring at something beyond me. "Looks like you're the one who won the lottery."

I make a face, shaking my head slowly. "You're not making any sense."

"Turn around."

I raise my eyebrows and give him a questioning look before I comply, twisting around to face the other direction. We're standing in front of one of those carnival fun houses. Lights and music greet my senses as I try my best to figure out the clue. 

"What…?"

He drops my hand and wraps his arms around me, leaning down to whisper in my ear.

"It's your mansion." 

I snort. "My mansion?" 

He tightens his grip around me, swaying our bodies from side to side. "Yeah…"

I bite my lip and turn my head towards his. The peaceful, content demeanor is certainly contagious. Looking back at the fun house, I laugh. "Looks like a fixer-upper."

He kisses my cheek and straightens, taking my hand again. "Let's go inside."

I sigh. I really don't want to go, but he's so excited and sweet, and… Oh hell. Love makes you do crazy things, right? 

"We don't have any tickets."

I watch as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out two strips of tickets. "On the contrary."

I shake my head. "You're full of surprises, John Carter."

He grins at me playfully. "You just wait."

He hands the tickets to the attendant at the entrance and proceeds to lead me inside the house by way of a black-curtained passage. Upon entry, all the noises and the lights disappear, and we're drawn further into quiet darkness. I reach out with my free hand to grope the wall beside me. It feels so close, and yet I have to extend my arm almost completely to make contact. I blink a few times to try and adjust my eyes to the darkness, but it doesn't seem to help.

"John?"

"I'm right here." He pulls me towards him, and I can make out his form in front of me. "Are you okay? We can go back, if you want."

"Yeah. I mean, no. I'm fine. It's just… The whole thing isn't like this, is it?"

"Nah. Just this first part."

"You've been here before?"

"Every summer when I was a kid."

"Oh." I continue to let him lead me through the hallway, looking back towards where we came from. "It feels like we've been in here forever." Suddenly, I sense him coming to a stop. Yep. My shoulder bounces off of his back. "What is it?" 

"There should be a corner around here, somewhere."

"A corner?"

"Yeah. I remember that…" He pauses and I can hear him searching the wall. "Ah. Here we go." 

I follow him around a corner and through another heavy, black curtain. A shower of dim light meets my eyes as we emerge. He stops and spins into me. I must look upset, because his face turns to concern just then, and he cups my cheek. 

"Are you okay?"

I smile at his touch. "I'm fine. I just wasn't expecting that."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" I smile. "Come on, there must be more to this place, right?"

He softens, returning my smile. "Right this way."

He guides me through another doorway and into another room. At first I think that we're not alone, but I quickly realize that it's a maze made up of mirrors and glass panels, and our images are being reflected several times over. 

"This is… Interesting." 

He laughs and we make our way through the narrow passages. There's not enough room to stand side-by-side, so we disentangle our fingers from each other. He goes first, holding his hands out in front of him. I follow, my own hands resting on his hips. 

We spend the next few minutes navigating our way through the maze. I try and call out instructions to him on which way to go, but I'm not much help. Instead, we end up bumping into dead ends, smacking into mirrors and glass panes, and dissolving into fits of laughter each time we make a wrong turn.

"I think we go this way…"

*THUD*

"Oww." 

"Maybe not…"

"Have we been here before?"

"What happens if we don't make it out?"

"I think they send out the search and rescue dogs."

"Lovely."

He turns around in his tracks, facing me. "I could think of worse things than being trapped in here with you."

"Oh, really…" I respond by sliding my hands up his arms and wrapping them around his neck. "And Jodie said the Ferris Wheel was romantic."

He smiles a sly grin. "I think romance has less to do with the activity you're doing and more to do with the person you're doing it with." 

I tip my head to the side. "Wise words."

He shrugs. "I'm a wise man."

I laugh and drop my arms. "Well, if you're so wise, let's see you get us out of here." 

He places his hands on my shoulders and turns me around "I would, but you keep distracting me with the way you're clinging to my waist like that."

"You know I can't bear to be separated from you." I throw him a seductive grin over my shoulder, winking.

Guiding me forward, he leans in to whisper. "That will never happen." His breath is warm against my neck. Hey now. Who's distracting who? I fight the urge to turn around and pin him to the nearest mirror. 

"Promise?" 

"Promise."

We're quiet as he leads me around a few more corners until we finally reach another doorway. 

"This better be the exit." 

He laughs. "And if it isn't?" 

"Then… Bad things will happen." 

"Well, lucky for me…" He takes my hand and pulls me through the doorway and into another room. 

Another room?

"I thought this was over." I look around. "More mirrors?"

"Crazy mirrors." 

"Ahh…" I turn around and take in my reflection in the first one. It's wavy and distorts the image. I scowl. Behind me, he laughs. I spin around. "What?"

He shakes his head and steps up beside me. "Try the next one."

I oblige, stepping to my right. The next mirror is bowed inwards. Makes me look as if I've got a short waist. I stare at it for a moment before moving on. I'm short enough as it is. It doesn't need to be emphasized. 

The mirror beside it bulges out, flaunting a part of the body that most women are self-conscious about. I laugh as soon as I see my reflection. He notices my guffaw, looking over with interest. 

I turn around and look over my shoulder at him. 

"Does this mirror make my butt look big?"

He steps closer and takes a few moments to study my reflection. He pulls the back of my coat away and stares a little longer. "Actually, I think it's the jeans." 

"Hey!" I whack him hard on the arm.

"Oww!" He cringes and rubs his arm, pouting. 

I wag a finger at him. "Careful now."

I weave my way past the next two mirrors, stopping briefly to check out their effects, and pause longer in front of the last mirror.

I frown.

I don't see anything different. 

Reaching out, I brush a hand down the surface. It's perfectly straight. 

It's just… A mirror.

He comes up from behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. He gazes at our image being reflected. 

"Ah… Now this has to be my favorite one. See how good we look?"

I smile. "Yes." 

We stand there for several seconds, watching each other in the mirror. His smile. My head resting against his. My hands stroking him. The slight movement of our bodies together. 

The reflection.

It's us. 

"Mmmm."

"What?"

"Nothing." 

He sighs. 

"What?"

"Nothing."

He straightens and I turn around in his arms. My hands find their usual resting spot behind his head. 

"So… Do you like your mansion?"

I shrug. "I could do without all the mirrors, and that dark hallway at the front definitely has to go. But it's got potential." 

He laughs and leans his forehead against mine. "Yeah. Potential."

I press my palm against the back of his neck and reach up to kiss him. He meets me halfway. The kiss is soft, tender. Romantic. 

I pull away and look into his eyes. Our heads are still touching. My hands continue to caress the back of his neck, my voice is barely a whisper. 

"Do you think Eric and Jodie can find their own way home?"

"You mean, would it be rude if we just left right now?"

"Well… Yeah."

A smile plays on his lips. "Somehow I don't think they'd notice." 

I roll my eyes playfully. "Yeah."

He brings his hands up and unwraps me from his neck, lacing his fingers with mine. 

"How do we get out of here?"

"Good question. If my memory serves me, there's a quick exit just though here…" 

We walk towards the nearest doorway, which undoubtedly leads to yet another fun house adventure. 

But as we step through, the fresh night air and the midway greet us. He descends the few steps first, turns around and holds my hands as I follow. 

"You were right."

"I was." 

I lean in and place a small kiss on his nose before I hop off the last step. He pulls my hand close to him, smiles, and we begin to make our way home in quiet, happy silence. 

Happy. That's what we are.

Because, mirrored here, in our eyes, it's love. 

***


	5. I Wish

Title: I Wish

Disclaimer: I own nothing of great value, and that includes Abby, Carter and the other cohorts of ER. Those belong to The Powers That Be and the kind folks at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended. I write because I like to write, and I share because I want to. 

Spoilers for "Tell Me Where It Hurts".

AN: I heart this show.

I failed him.

When he needed me the most… When the world came crashing down around him… I failed him. I practically handed him over to the authorities. Here you go. My baby brother. Sorry, Eric. If past is prologue, I know you were expecting me to look out for you, to keep you safe. But not this time. I screwed up. My doubts and fears got the best of me. Unfortunately, you're the one who's going to pay the price for the mistakes I made today.

I bring my hands up to my head, rubbing them over my face and through my hair. The warm spray of the shower beats at my back and I stand there - motionless - for what seems like an eternity. Thinking. 

I can't change anything. 

What's done is done.

I reach behind myself and nab the bottle of shampoo off the shelf. Popping the top open, I pour some soap into my palm, flip the cap and return the bottle back to its spot. I begin to run my hands through my hair again, more diligently now, my fingers mingling with the locks and lather.

__

Is this what you wanted Abby? Huh? Are you happy now? Yeah, that's right. Lock me up and throw away the key. Eric's been a bad boy. Thanks a lot, Abby. Thanks!

Looking back, I probably did him more harm than good. I was so wrapped up in trying to protect him from what was happening with Maggie, I forgot to protect him from what was happening with me. I took full responsibility for anything and everything that happened in the family, and the burden quickly weighed me down. There were times when I'd just let it all out on him. I'd yell at him and call him names just to vent at someone who I knew would understand. And he did. But that didn't make it fair to him.

He was such a good kid. 

I rinse my hair thoroughly and yank off the shower. Pulling back the curtain, I retrieve a towel off the rack and use it to wipe dry my face and wrap my hair. Taking another towel, I encircle it around my body and step out of the bathtub. 

I swipe my hand across the steamed bathroom mirror and reach for my toothbrush. I grab the first one my hand comes across, only to realize that it's Carter's. Putting it back, I find my own resting next to it and run it under the tap before I apply the paste. I begin to work the brush over my teeth, my gaze transfixed on the reflected image in the mirror. Looking for the signs…

Twenty-seven. Seems like just yesterday he was five years old. Running up and down the sidewalk, arms out, making 'airplane noises' with his mouth. 

__

Bet'cha I can make you laugh, Abby.

And he would.

He was always talking. Making up stories. A curly-haired little boy with wide-eyed imagination. A little boy with a genuine curiosity for the world around him. 

__

I'm going to be a pilot some day, Abby. Just you wait. I'm gonna fly jets. You're gonna be so proud of me.

Through the worst of it, he was there. For me. Always.

He was the one I confided in. He was the one I cried to. At night, near the beginning of it all, I'd creep into his room, just to watch him sleep. Just to see the peace. I wanted him to be oblivious to everything, but deep down, I knew he wasn't. I knew my brother, and he was smarter than I needed him to be. He was hurting, too, and I refused to see it.

Why Eric? 

I spit the remaining paste out of my mouth, rinsing out my brush and mopping the sink. Stepping back, I unwrap the towel from my head, bending over to letting my hair fall forward in front of me. Taking my fingers, I try to run them through, cursing when they snag together. I forgot the damn conditioner again. I straighten and throw myself a glare in the mirror. Turning, I reach over to the shelf in the shower again, pulling the bottle of conditioner from its spot. I squeeze a small amount into my hand and put the bottle back before I rub my hands together and work the cream in. Picking up my brush, I comb it through my hair a few times until I'm satisfied the kinks have disappeared. I twist my tresses tightly to dispel any excess water. I look back in the mirror.

I wish all my problems were this easily solved. 

I wipe my hands on the towel covering my torso and turn for the door to the bedroom. I open it and shiver a little as a gust of cool air greets me. I move about the bedroom, searching for my bathrobe. I could have sworn I'd seen it earlier. The item catches my eye, hanging over a chair in the corner, and I snatch it up quickly, draping it around my body for warmth. As I remove the towel and tie the belt on the robe, my ears are drawn towards conversation in the next room. I inch towards the door. Who's here? There's a pause and I listen for a response. I look towards my phone receiver and notice the "in use" light illuminated. A realization strikes me. Maybe it's Eric. 

I shake my head. It can't be. Carter would have gotten me out of the shower if it had been Eric. He's probably still in transport. Besides, if he did get to call, I wouldn't think I'd be at the top of his phone list. No. Not tonight.

I go to the bathroom and hang up the towels, shutting off the light when I'm done. Back in the bedroom I flip on the lamp on the nightstand and turn back the quilt on the bed. 

I don't know why. It's not like I'll be getting much sleep tonight.

You're just going through the motions, Abby. 

I return to the living room just as he's hanging up the phone. He spots me in the doorway and gives me a comforting smile.

"Feeling better?"

I shrug my shoulders and blink slowly, biting my lower lip.

He nods and closes the distance between us. I reach out for him, wrapping my arms around him, pulling him to me. I bury my face in his chest for the second time that night. 

"Who was on the phone?"

I can feel his hands stroking my back through the robe. 

"Jodie. She wanted to know if we'd heard from him."

I pull back slightly to look up at him. "What did you say?"

He pauses for a moment before answering. "I told her he'd phoned to say he was on his way back to the base." He tips his head. "I said we'd buy her a bus ticket home." 

I nod. "Okay."

He glances up at the ceiling briefly. "She was really worried, but I couldn't tell her…"

"… Yeah." 

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can feel a hand lift off my back. Seconds later his fingers graze my cheek as his lips make contact with my forehead. 

All at once the tears return. I don't fight them. I can't. 

He draws me closer once again, resting his chin atop my head. I sigh and tighten my grip around him, inhaling his scent. It's remarkable how this man can calm me without using any words at all. 

If I could, I would crawl inside of him. Just to escape. From all my doubts. My fears. I need to be totally and completely engulfed by him right now.

I feel so safe with him. So protected. 

But I'm not the one who needs protecting. 

He can read my thoughts. "You should call her."

"Not now."

"Abby…"

"Not now," I reiterate, reluctantly sagging out of his embrace. I pad my way into the kitchen, open a cupboard and grab a glass off the shelf. Turning on the faucet, I let the water run for half a minute before filling the glass. I know he's watching me. I can picture him leaning up against the doorframe, arms crossed, waiting for me to speak. I empty half the contents of the glass and turn around, my eyes meeting his. I was right.

I lean against the counter. "I can't."

"Okay."

"I don't want to worry her."

"It's okay."

I look down at the glass in my hands. "I mean, when I know something, I'll tell her. But…"

"Abby…" 

I raise my head. There's so much there. So much emotion conveyed in one look. It's as if he wants me to feel his heart breaking along with mine. 

I do. 

"… It's okay."

We share the silence for a few seconds. I shrug and shake my head, placing my glass in the sink. I look around the kitchen, mindedly searching for something. 

"What did you do with the wine?"

His eyes snap to life at my inquiry. "I took it across the hall to Lena."

I nod, looking at the floor. "I'm sorry I bought it." 

"You don't need to apologize."

"I feel I should." 

He sighs.

I push away from the counter and make for the living room again. As I pass him, he catches my hand and pulls me back. 

"What are you doing?"

I turn around and look up at him. 

I sigh. "I don't know."

"Come on…" He drops my hand and places both of his on my shoulders, turning and steering me towards the bedroom. "Let me put you to bed. We'll be able to do more in the morning."

I shake my head and wiggle out of his grip, side stepping the doorway and veering back towards the couch. 

"No. I don't think I can sleep." 

I sit down on the couch and bring my knees up to my chin, looking around the apartment. 

"Why do I feel so useless?"

He comes and sits down beside me, adjusting his position so he's facing me. One of his hands comes up to caress the back of my neck. I hang my head, giving him easier access. His touch is soothing. I want to bottle it up and save it for when… 

"I meant what I said. You're not alone in this, Abby."

I draw my head upwards and look into the eyes of the most amazing man in the world. I purse my lips together. How did I get so lucky?

"I know." 

My voice is quiet, timid. I'm on the verge of tears again.

He notices this and pulls away, backing up, settling himself in the corner of the couch.

He opens his arms. "Come here."

I oblige, scooting over. I turn around and lay back against his chest, my hands folded across my abdomen. 

We sit like this for several minutes. Silent. Resting. His hands move up and down my arms gently, massaging them through the cotton of my robe. I close my eyes, treasuring every moment I have with him.

"It's so unfair..." I whisper.

"I know." He voice is just as low as my own, the vibrations of his chest reverberating through my head.

"Why Eric? Why now?"

He kisses the top of my head. "I wish I had the answers to those questions. I really wish I did." 

"I can't lose him. I just… I can't."

"You won't. We'll get him help."

I draw in a shuddered breath and grab one of his hands, lacing my fingers through his. 

"He was such a good kid. And he took the brunt of all the frustration. From Maggie. From me…

"… But he never complained. Not once. He knew. He understood…

"… You should have seen the look on his face. When they took him. He was so angry. So scared… 

"… I thought I'd gotten him past this. I thought we were in the clear. I thought… I thought we'd made it…

"… I wish I could take this from him. I wish… I wish it would have been me."

I finish and take another deep breath, waiting for his response. Waiting for him to tell me everything is going to be okay. That we'll get through this. That we'll help him, just like we helped my mother. Together. I need him to tell me that he'll never leave me. 

I need him to tell me again.

He clears his throat, and I anticipate his reply.

"You know, for years… After Bobby died… I couldn't forgive myself for not being a better brother. That maybe if I'd done one thing differently, he would have lived. I know now that's not true. But, back then, I wished the same thing you wish now. I wanted it to be me."

I bite my lip and look at our entwined fingers. "Oh, Carter." 

I can feel his chest rise and fall underneath me.

"Abby, I want to lie to you and tell you that everything is going to be okay. But that wouldn't be fair. I wish I had trusted your instincts before. We might have gotten Eric some help earlier."

I shake my head. "He would have refused." I angle my face up to meet his gaze. "You can't blame yourself." 

He strokes the side of my face. "Neither can you."

I look down briefly and nod. 

"Abby…"

"I know." 

"We'll get him help, Abby. We'll get him through this. We'll get ourselves through this."

"Okay."

I sniff and rub my hand across my face. Somewhere in our conversation, the tears resurfaced, staining my cheeks. 

"I wish there was some way I could take all this pain from you."

I smile weakly and rest my head back against his chest, taking one of his hands in both of mine. Turning it over, I trace his palm with my fingertip before I bring it to my face, kissing it lightly. 

"You're doing a better job than you think." 

I take both of his hands in mine and wrap his arms around me tightly. 

"What have I done to deserve you?"

Easy laughter emanates from within his chest. "Do you really want me to give you the list? We could be here awhile."

I can't help but smile. "I've got nowhere else to be." I twist around and look up at him. "Do you?"

He returns my smile. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good, then. I believe we've got all night."

He tips his head to the side. "Well… Okay. But I'll warn you. It's quite the lengthy list. You'd be hard pressed to find anyone who's as committed to you as I am. If you don't want to run away with me after this, I -- "

I cut him off with a finger to his lips. "Shh… " 

He frowns. 

"… I just need you."

He smiles widely and pulls me closer to him. Leaning down, his lips touch mine softly in a kiss that touches me. Moves me. My fears. My doubts. Washed away by his love. 

"You've got me."

***


	6. Sensations

Title: Sensations

Disclaimer: I own nothing of great value, and that includes Abby, Carter and the other cohorts of ER. Those belong to The Powers That Be and the kind folks at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended. I write because I like to write, and I share because I want to.

Notes: Yeah, so it's this close to the end of the semester. High stress, little sleep. And yet, I indulged. Another supersized chapter. Consider it an advance apology for nearing inevitable delinquencies. 

Spoilers for 'First Snowfall'. 

"Oh, the city's a mess. How are you holding up?" 

I pause to answer, but something in his voice strikes me. I look up.

My heart skips a beat.

I tuck my phone under my chin and stare at him for a moment. Unblinking. Because I'm afraid that if I do, this image will disappear. 

A smile creeps across my lips. 

He's here. 

I watch him step up onto the sidewalk. His face is a mix of exhaustion, relief and quiet comfort. 

"Hi," I manage to crack out, pleasure competing with surprise. 

"Hi."

We exchange another look and I roll my eyes playfully. 

"What… What took you so long?" 

He laughs a throaty chuckle and takes a couple more steps, coming to rest on the step beside me. 

He looks out towards the way he came. "Mother Nature and I had a little bit of a disagreement." 

I follow his gaze, nodding. "I see." I take a deep breath and tip my head sideways, looking at him again. "But you're here now." 

He smiles, and I can't help but do the same. "Neither rain nor snow…"

I shake my head, laughing. "I get it."

He moves closer to me, taking my phone and slipping it into my coat pocket. He picks up one of my hands next, and brings it to his face, kissing it gently. 

I blush, still smiling. 

He turns his head towards me and leans closer. My response is instinctive, as my free hand reaches up to stroke his cheek, leaning my forehead against his, closing my eyes.

"I missed you," I say, my voice barely a whisper. 

"I know."

I open my eyes as he straightens and looks ahead once more. I stare at his profile for a second and then rest my head on his shoulder.

"So…"

"How are you holding up?"

I have to think about my answer. 

My brother is sick. He's been arrested. Tomorrow he faces a court martial. He might go to jail. 

And they've been lying to me.

I'm tired. Sad. Angry. Lost. 

I should feel worse. But I don't. 

Because I'm not alone.

"Abby…"

"I'm okay." 

"Really?"

I swallow and blink twice slowly. "Really."

He nods, accepting my answer. "Good."

We sit like this for a minute or two, just enjoying each other's company. There's no need for immediate communication. There will be time enough for that later. It's been a long day… A long week… And all I want to do is be with him.

I look down at our entwined hands, fingers caressing fingers. 

"How'd you know I was still here?"

"I checked at the gate. You weren't signed out."

"Ah…" I close my eyes. He's incredible.

"Abby?"

They flutter open. "Yeah?"

"Why haven't you signed out?"

I draw my head upwards, off his shoulder, as I inhale a breath. I look up at the night sky, then behind me towards the door.

"I keep thinking that maybe he'll need me."

"He does need you." 

I shake my head, sadly. "I'm not so sure, Carter… I -"

My words are cut short by the sound of the automatic doors sliding open, followed by footsteps. 

"Abby?" 

Our heads spin around towards the voice. Carter looks at Maggie, then at me, eyebrows raised. 

I twist my mouth. "Hey, Mom."

She begins to descend the steps. "John Carter…"

Carter rises at her approach, dropping my hand as he does so. I sigh and push myself off the step as well. 

Maggie stops in between us and pauses for a moment before wrapping her arms around Carter in a hug. Confusion crosses his face for a second and he responds, patting her back lightly. 

"Hi, Ms. Wyczenski." 

She pulls back and studies him. "Always the polite one. Please, call me Maggie. I mean, after all you've done…" She stops and considers something. I stare at my feet. I know what's coming. 

"You didn't have to come all the way out here, John."

His eyes travel from Maggie to me. "I wanted to come." 

I bite my lip.

Maggie smiles. "Well, that's awfully sweet of you. I'm sure Abby appreciates it, too. Right, Abby?"

I draw my eyes upwards and look from my mother back to Carter. 

If she only knew how much I appreciate him, everyday.

"Of course." 

We stand there in silence for several moments. Maggie looks back and forth between us, her suspicion growing. Carter raises his eyebrows at me, obviously amused. I shoot him a glare. 

"So, Mom… Any luck finding some rooms?"

She looks at me, puzzled, and nods. "There's a motel about a mile-and-a-half from the gate. They've got a few vacancies."

I nod and look at Carter. He clears his throat.

"A mile-and-a-half, you say? I think I passed that on my way in."

Maggie perks up, smiling at him once more. "Great! You show us the way, then." 

Something inside my head snaps, and I open my mouth. 

"Uh… Mom. If you don't mind, I think I'll ride with Car… er, John." I look at Carter. "I want to give him an update."

She's silent for a moment, her brow creased with lines of contemplation. For the first time today, I'm struck by how tired and vulnerable she looks. 

"I think that would be a good idea."

Carter and I both let out a shared breath. 

I move around my mother, reaching for my bag on the steps. "Good. Um, then… We'll see you there?"

"Absolutely." 

I give my mother a small smile and we step off the curb, heading towards the car. He looks back over his shoulder once before leaning down to my level. 

"Long story?" He hushes.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah."

He opens the passenger door for me, leaning on it as I brush past him to get inside. "I'd love to hear it."

I smirk up at him. "You're going to be sorry you said that." 

***

An hour-and-a-half-later, we are finally standing outside our motel room doors, exchanging goodnights with my mother. 

We'd found the place just fine, but as soon as we got there, Maggie insisted that John and I join her for something to eat at the diner across the lot. I was reluctant, but at the quiet urgings of the man by my side – the silent "It's your mother, make friends" argument waging - I complied and tagged along. The meal was welcomed, as was the added company. It could have been worse, I realized. I could have been eating alone with my mother without the support of Carter. As it was, he managed to have a tranquil effect on everyone. The conversation was, at the very least, tolerable, which was surprising considering the mood of the day that had passed.

Still, as much as I was enjoying myself, I wanted to be alone with him. I wanted to show my appreciation for him privately, without Maggie as an audience.

"Are you going to be okay?" I ask, as she inserts her room key into the lock. The wind has picked up a little since we left the base, and there's a definite chill in the air to match. I wrap my coat tighter around my body and rock back and forth on my heels. Maybe it'll snow. 

"Oh, I'll be fine. Don't you worry about me." She opens the door and looks back at the two of us, smiling. "You two go on. Get some rest."

I nod and look up at Carter. 

"It was nice seeing you again, John." 

"You too, Maggie."

She stares at us for a moment longer, pursing her lips together in that way she does when she knows I'm keeping something back. Shaking her head, she gives a small wave before stepping into her room.

"… Have a good night." She calls out as the door clicks shut. 

I'm quiet for another second until I hear the deadbolt locking on the other side of the door. I close my eyes, biting my lip and let out a breath of relief. 

His hand falls to rest protectively on my back. 

"She looks healthy."

I open my eyes, look up at him and shrug. "I guess." A smile finds its way to my lips as I recall her genuine pleasure at his unexpected arrival. "She's got such a soft spot for you." I smack his chest lightly and turn about on my heel to face our motel room.

I can feel his hands grip my shoulders tightly as I work to unlock the door. He kisses the back of my head gently. 

"Like mother, like daughter." 

I push the door open and throw him a look over my shoulder. "Ha ha."

Once inside the room, I make my way over to the nearest lamp and flick it on, dropping my bag on the floor as I do. I slip off my jacket as I take a look around the room. It's small, but clean. My gaze wanders around for a moment or two, until they finally settle on the tall, quiet figure that followed me inside. He's still standing in the doorway, overnight bag still slung over his shoulder. Watching me.

I make a face. "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head and advances further into the room. "I was about to ask you the same thing." He puts the bag on the bed, slips off his jacket and turns around to face me again, eyebrows raised. 

I shrug. "It's a little small." 

He looks around the room. "It's a cheap motel room on the side of a highway. What did you expect?"

"You make it sound so kinky." I roll my eyes at my joke.

He laughs at my expression. "Come on… It's clean and it's safe. Where would you rather go?"

My expression falls and I look at the floor. "Home."

He steps in front of me and tips my chin up to look at him. "That will come. Eventually."

I sigh and slip around him, travelling to the bed. "I know." 

"So can we make ourselves comfortable here?"

I don't answer, but instead reach for the overnight bag. I unzip it and look through the contents. "Did you bring everything?" 

"Everything you asked me to bring. Plus a few extras."

I look over at him. "Extras?" 

He nods. "Soap, shampoo…"

"Conditioner?"

He smiles. "Conditioner, deodorant…"

I pull my toothbrush out of the side pocket. 

"… Toothbrush and toothpaste. I think that's it."

I grab the tube of toothpaste and clutch the two items to my chest as I step up to him. "You really are incredible."

He tips his head to the side. "People keep telling me that."

Leaning down, he brings his face closer to mine for the first kiss we've shared since the previous day. I close my eyes, smiling at his approach. Just when I feel our lips are about to make contact, I give him a playful shove against his chest. 

He frowns as I back away. "What was that for?"

I grin wickedly and hold up the items in my hand. "At least allow me to freshen up first."

He calls after me as I disappear into the bathroom. "That was cruel, Abby. Just cruel."

I pop my head around the doorframe. "Could be worse. I could make you beg for it later." 

He shakes his head and turns to sit down on the bed. I shrink back into the bathroom and immediately set to work on my self-appointed task. I load up the brush and begin to work it around my mouth. The fresh taste of the paste and the feeling of the bristles bring with it that extra repose that comes with getting back to – some - routine. I know I didn't ask him to bring it, but I'm glad he did. It's familiar, and I crave that right now. But who knew something as simple as a toothbrush could bring me such comfort?

In the other room, I can hear the faint sounds of the television as he flips through the channels. I catch my reflection in the mirror and smile as that sense of tranquility washes over me again.

This is how I felt when I looked up and saw him standing there. The same feeling I get whenever I'm with him. 

It isn't the toothbrush. It's the man who brought the toothbrush.

I rinse out my mouth and wash the residue out of the sink. I use one of the courtesy towels to dry my hands and hang it up.

I emerge from the bathroom and find him sitting at the foot of the bed, shoes off. The overnight bag has been moved, and our jackets hang casually over the back of a chair. Some news report flickers on the television screen. 

"Take a look at this. Three feet of snow in seven hours."

I glance at the picture as I kick off my own shoes. "Wow…" I sit down beside him and we watch the coverage together. It barely strikes me that this is that same Chicago I left last night. 

"I'm lucky I was able to get a flight out when I did. I might have had to charter a plane."

A breath catches in my throat. 

I look at him, eyebrows raised. "You… Would have done that?"

He glances at me briefly and turns back to the TV, smiling. "If I needed to."

"Oh." I bite my bottom lip. "Wow."

He never fails to make me feel this way. Like I'm the most important person in the world. 

Pushing myself up off the bed, I shift so that I'm standing directly in front of him. He frowns up at me, opening his mouth in what I'm sure is in protest for blocking the television. Not that I care. Pulling the remote out of his hands, I twist around only to erase the picture before turning back to face him. We're not in Chicago right now, and I have much more pressing news I want to fill him in on. 

I flip the remote over his shoulder and onto the bed as I snake my arms around his neck. Positioning my body in between his knees, I stroke the back of his head lovingly and smile.

"Hi…"

He raises an eyebrow, his own smile creeping across his lips. His hands rise to rest on my hips and he leans forward so that our faces are mere inches apart. 

"Hello, yourself."

A low moan escapes from his lips as I capture them with my own in a kiss. I settle myself against his left thigh, and he responds by drawing his arms further around me, pulling me closer. Our kiss quickly becomes more intense, our lips parting, tongues mingling, as we passionately greet each other for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours. His hands roam the length of my waist and backside. My own hands find themselves conveniently lost in his hair. 

We part several seconds later, breathless.

"I've been wanting to do that since you got here," I manage to pant out before I lean in again, nuzzling his neck. 

"Mmm… They say absence makes the heart grow fonder." 

I nibble his ear lightly. "And does it?"

"Oh yeah… "

I trail kisses up along his jaw and across his temple. "So does this mean I should take more trips out of state?"

"Don't you dare…" 

I pull back slightly and look at him for a moment before I lower my head to his again, our lips meeting in the middle. My hands seem to have a mission of their own as they slide back from around his neck and down his chest, catching the hem of his shirt. I tug at it.

"Abby…" 

I smile against his lips and pull at the shirt again.

"Abby… Don't."

I push aside his protest and instead slide my hands underneath the garment. My teeth nip at his lips playfully as I try and inch the shirt upwards.

Suddenly his hands are gripping my arms, pulling me away.

"I said don't, Abby." 

I blink once in disbelief. "What?"

"Don't do this. Not tonight." 

I raise my eyebrows in a challenge. "Don't do what?"

He sighs and straightens, pulling back even more. "You know what I'm talking about." 

"I do?"

"Yes, you do."

I stare at him for a moment, anger swelling inside my chest. 

What's happening? 

"You don't want me."

My glare must be cold, because he hangs his head then.

"That's not what I meant, Abby…"

I let out a sharp breath and I push myself from my perch. 

"I can't believe this…"

"Abby…"

"No. No, I don't want to hear it." I bring a hand to my head and pace around in circles, trying to collect my emotions. 

What went wrong?

"Abby, please…" He stands and tries to approach me.

I hold my other hand out to stop him. "No, Carter. Just… " I look at him for a second, shake my head, turn and walk away.

"Just leave me alone," I say, as I slam the bathroom door behind me.

I flip on the switch and squint at the harsh fluorescent light that sears though my tearful eyes. I pound my hand on the counter as they slide down my cheeks.

I can't believe he rejected me. 

Jilted. Twice in one day. By the two most important men in my life. 

Swiping one hand across my face, I turn on the faucet with the other. I cup my hands underneath the stream and lean over, splashing cold water over my hot, flushed features. I repeat this a few more times before grabbing the towel and wiping myself dry. I sniff and look at my reflection in the mirror.

God, no wonder he didn't want you, Abby. You're a mess. 

You know you're a fool for believing him. You always have been.

I take in a shaky breath and close my eyes, coaxing the negative thoughts away.

No. This isn't over. You can't give up this easy. He said he wouldn't leave you, and he meant it. 

Go.

There's a soft knock on the door.

"Abby… "

Open the door. 

I take another breath and open my eyes.

He came to be with you. Not out of a sense of duty, not because you asked him to. He came because he wanted to. Just like last time.

Go. Talk to him. 

Stop hiding. 

I take one last look in the mirror before turning out the light and returning to the main room. He's sitting on the side of the bed, facing the door. Waiting for me.

I ring my hands and look at the floor. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Abby… Abby look up. Look at me." His voice is calm, tentative. 

I raise my eyes.

"Why do you keep shutting me out?"

I stand there motionless for a moment as I try to come up with an answer. 

"I'm scared." 

He sighs, concern allied with his breath. "It's ok, Abby. It's ok to be scared." 

I shake my head and sniff back a small sob. "No, no it's not."

He stands up. "Yes, it is."

I take a deep breath and brush past him, flopping down on the bed. I lay on my back and look at the ceiling. 

"Did I tell you that he didn't want to see me today?" 

I feel the bed shift as he sits down again. "Are you surprised by that?"

I roll my head to one side, then the other. 

"No. But it still hurt." 

A strong, comforting hand caresses my thigh. "Of course it did. You love him."

I shift my gaze to look at him now. He smiles warmly and takes my hand. I close my eyes for a moment and concentrate on the sensation that comes with his touch.

"Abby…"

"I'm really tired, Carter. Can we please just…" I open my eyes and look at him again. "… Go to bed?" 

His features soften with tender sadness and he nods quietly. 

I slip my hand out of his and pull myself up off the bed. I pick up the bag on the floor, rummaging through it for something to sleep in. 

"Here…" He takes the bag from me and pulls something out. "I brought you these." He hands me a tank top and a pair of cotton pajama bottoms.

I smile weakly at the clothing in my hands. "Thanks." 

"Are you done with the bathroom?"

I look at him, temporarily distracted. "Uh… Yeah."

"Ok."

I watch him as he disappears into the other room, closing the door behind him. I shut my eyes, blinking back the sudden tears that have sprung up again. 

I change quickly and quietly, putting my street clothes on the chair where our jackets hang. I pull the clip out of my hair and comb my fingers through it a few times, letting it fall across my shoulders. I flick off the lights until only the soft glow from underneath the bathroom door remains. I turn to head towards the bed, but change my course of travel and head to the window instead. Pulling back the curtains a little, I look out into the night and am surprised by the sight that greets me. A layer of snow blankets the ground and everything else in sight. I purse my lips together and watch the flakes as they fall from the sky, lightly and carefully to the earth. 

It's almost peaceful. 

I fold the drapes closed and pad my way over to the bed, pulling the bedspread and covers back. I lay down and pull the blanket and sheet up underneath my arms. I close my eyes and lay there for a minute – waiting – until a realization enters my mind. I roll onto my side and look at the digital clock on the nightstand. Fingering the buttons, I set the alarm for seven A.M..

A few moments later I hear the bathroom door open, followed by footsteps. I roll over onto my back again and gaze down towards the foot of the bed. Despite the growing darkness, I can still make out the shadows his figure makes as he undresses and changes for the night. I smile at the image set before me as that familiar feeling once again envelops me, consuming every note of doubt I had. 

He's here. 

I wait until he crawls into the bed quietly, as if he's afraid to disturb me. Except he knows I'm still awake. I wait until he settles beside me, my face pointed in his direction, my eyes fixed on his every movement. I wait until he closes his eyes, and then I reach over, touching his cheek.

His hand catches mine and holds it there. His breath grazes my skin, sending well-known shivers down my spine.

"I'm sorry." 

"I know." 

He pulls, and I shift my position. Sliding over, I wrap myself around him. My head falls naturally to his shoulder and I bury my face in his chest for a moment, inhaling his scent. One of his hands strokes my arm whilst the fingers on the other gently guide themselves through my hair. 

"John?"

"Yeah."

"I never… Thanked you. For coming."

"You didn't have to." 

I play with the fabric of his cotton t-shirt. "Neither did you."

He sighs then, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath. His arms pull me closer, and he plants a kiss on my head. 

"It's not an obligation, Abby. Not when it's you. It's a privilege."

I smile in the darkness and lean over, kissing his chest three times. Lifting my head, I gaze up at him. 

"It's snowing, you know." 

"I know."

I rest my head back on his shoulder and squeeze him tightly. I never want this feeling to go away. 

"Maybe we'll get snowed in."

"Maybe." 

Our voices are barely audible. We're both so close to sleep.

"Night, John."

"Mmm… Night Abby."

Almost. 

"I'm so glad you're here." 

"Me, too." 

There.

***


	7. Weary Miles

Title: Weary Miles 

Disclaimer: I own nothing of great value, and that includes Abby, Carter and the other cohorts of ER. Those belong to The Powers That Be and the kind folks at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended. I write because I like to write, and I share because I want to. 

Spoilers for 'Next of Kin'. 

Notes: Special thanks for IAS for her continued faith in me. It's friends like you that make this all worthwhile. And I can't forget Starsy and her undivided beta attention. May Santa put something extra in your stocking on Wednesday. :o)

Uploaded revised version 02/03/03

He left. Said he didn't need me anymore. Didn't want me. 

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

I barely made it to the end of the hallway before the dam broke and the tears came. I couldn't cry in front of him. No. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. 

Rejected. 

I open my eyes and fixate them on the ceiling. Outside, the cold night air sends wistful shadows dancing above my head. The light from the street filters into the otherwise darkened room. The glow is eerie and oddly comforting. 

I wish I could go back and change it. Change it all.

But what would I do differently?

I wouldn't have pursued it…

I wouldn't have pushed so hard to prove my suspicions…

I wouldn't have gone after him…

I wouldn't have done anything differently.

I blink twice in the darkness and roll my head to the side, gazing at the sleeping figure lying next to me. His back faces me. He'd fallen asleep this way, I suspect, after I shrank away from his touch when he tried to comfort me. Don't, I warned. Don't try and tell me that it'll be okay. 

I sigh and lean towards him a little. I draw a hand up from underneath the covers and trace a small circle on his back. I bite my lower lip.

It won't be okay.

I take a deep breath and pull myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I can feel the cool hardwood floor through my socks as I stand and search around the room for more clothes. I spot a sweater hanging over the chair in the corner and reach for it, pulling it over my t-shirt. I look down. I'm wearing a pair of flannel night pants. I should be warm enough. I don't plan on going very far.

I just need some air.

I find my way to the living room without having to turn on any lights. Opening the closet door, I quietly pull out a pair of sneakers. I slip my feet into them and yank on the shoelaces, tying them tightly. Straightening, I reach back into the closest, looking for a jacket. I almost pull out the first one my hands land on, but decide against it. 

It has to be my own surroundings tonight.

I swing my coat over my shoulders, snaking my hands through the arms. I drop my head to my chest and begin to work the buttons with an unusual amount of concentration. 

"Running away?"

My head snaps up. He's standing in the doorway on the other side of the room, watching me. 

Damn.

"Come back to bed."

I shake my head. "I just… I'm just going to go for a walk. I need the air." 

He frowns. "Abby… It's after midnight."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah well, I couldn't sleep, all right?"

His eyes widen and I immediately regret the harshness of my outburst. 

"I'll be okay. Go back to bed."

He looks over his shoulder at the empty bed, then back at me. He clears his throat. "Do you want some company?"

I pause before answering, hoping he'll think I'm contemplating the idea. I'm not.

I look down at my feet. "No."

"Oh."

I can hear the hurt in his voice. 

I turn and unlock the door. I open it a little and glance over my shoulder. He's frozen in his spot. Stunned. 

"Go back to bed."

I slip into the hallway quickly and quietly, closing the door behind me. In less than a minute, I'm outside on the front step. The night air is cold and dry. I pull my collar up around my neck and shove my gloved hands into my pockets. I descend the stairs slowly, as if every step requires a certain amount of push. At the bottom, I look back. It's all I can do not to run back inside. Shaking my head, I set my jaw and begin my journey.

Twenty-seven years. How can he just throw that all away? How can he expect me to throw it all away? Doesn't he remember anything we went through with Maggie? The late night rages. The broken dishes. The screaming. The confusion. The fear. Does he remember any of it?

Oh, if I could just get him to see how much he is hurting himself. He needs help. Not from her. Not **just** from me. 

He's not the same person he once was. And yet, at the same time, he's exactly the same. That plucky little boy I used to tease and tickle until tears streamed down his face. The boy with those wide eyes, asking me if everything would be okay. Those same eyes that could see through me when I was lying.

__

You're not that person anymore.

Neither are you, Eric. But you're still my brother. The first person I ever really loved. The only one I ever allowed myself to really love…

It's denial. The first stage of grief. Grieving something that has been lost.

His mind. His control. His life. 

He's sick, and there's nothing more that I can do to get through to him. Why?

He's angry. It's stage two. The outbursts, the sarcasm… It's bitter. I don't blame him. But he blames me. Why?

You are my brother, and I love you. I still love you. I will always love you. And I will always be there for you. 

Always.

I shake myself from my reflection-induced trace and stare out along the street. My hands grope the insides of my pockets for a familiar package. I groan inwardly when their search comes up empty. Damn. I left my cigarettes back at the apartment. I stop walking and turn around. I'm tempted to go back and retrieve them. But if I do, I won't be back out here. So I continue my trek away from home. 

I've been meaning to quit – again – anyway. 

My father left us when I was seven. For years I wondered what I'd done wrong to make him leave like that. Then, slowly, my self-blame progressed into resentment towards Maggie and her illness. She drove him away - I was convinced. Who would want a faulty wife? 

I don't think I ever really forgave her for his departure. Even later, when he came back for one of his spur of the moment visits to check up on us, a part of me always blamed her for being too much to handle. I knew it wasn't fair. But it was the way I felt. 

As I walk down the sidewalk, I notice a house further down the block and across the road. It's not hard to spot – there's got to be at least a couple thousand Christmas lights adorning it. It stands as a bright pillar on this otherwise darkened street – a symbol of the fast approaching season. 

We used to decorate the house. It was never anything fancy. A few strings of lights, a wreath in the front door… A tree and a menorah. Of course, after he left, we did away with Hanukkah tradition. Mom enrolled us into Catholic school. She wanted us to be raised the same way she'd been raised. 

Good Christians. 

Sometimes she tried so hard. Other times, she hardly tried.

I cross the street at the corner and proceed onto the next block. My breath freezes in the night air as I struggle to keep up with my fast-paced footfalls. Maybe it's a good thing I didn't have that cigarette. 

__

Cancel Christmas.

Oh, if only I could.

I begin to wonder what time it is. It feels like I haven't been out here very long, and yet I've covered a fair bit of ground. I can almost picture Carter lying awake at home, waiting for me. If I'm out any longer, I wouldn't put it past him to come looking for me. 

That's just the kind of person he is. Always making sure everyone is okay. Always wanting to fix everything.

In some ways, we're exactly alike. 

I'm faintly aware of approaching music.

I look down at the ground and then across the street. 

I don't notice the door that's opening or the people coming out until I nearly run into them. 

"Oh hey! Careful there!" 

I shake my head at the sudden start and glance at the pack that almost bowled me over. 

"Sorry," I manage to mumble. 

"Hey, no prob!" Someone replies. 

I stare at them for a few seconds.

The music is louder, now. 

"Are you going in?" Someone else asks.

I frown. "What?"

"Inside. Are you going inside?"

The door opens again, music, conversation and smoke wafting out into the street. I peek inside.

It's a bar. 

"So?"

I stare at the interior for a moment longer than I probably should.

I want to go inside.

"Hey, lady…"

Just one drink. 

Something snaps in my head, bringing me back to reality. 

"Uh… No." I smile weakly. "No I'm not." 

"Okay." 

I watch the door close.

The crowd starts to disperse. 

"Hey!" I call to no one in particular.

Someone turns around. "Yeah?" 

"Do you, um… Do you have the time?" 

"Er… Yea. It's uh… Ten-till-one."

I nod. "Thanks." 

"Whatever." 

And then I'm alone again. I stand there for a minute or two, I'm not sure. Willing my legs to move. Away from the temptation. 

Walk away. Just go home. 

And so I do. Though I'm not sure how I get there. My head is a daze. Still, I eventually find myself trudging up the steps and into my apartment. 

I shiver as I remove my coat and opt to keep my sweater on for as long as I can stand it. I stop in the doorway to the bedroom and wait to see if he responds. His body lies still. I creep around to my side of the bed, pulling the covers up around me. I lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows as the dance above my head. 

The bed shifts next to me. I feel the deep breath that preludes his voice.

"Your legs are cold."

I close my eyes, sighing. 

"Sorry." 

*** 

***

"There's a single MVA coming in."

"When?"

"Now."

"Okay, I've got it. Gallant, you're with me. Abby, can you help?"

I look up from a chart and glance from Chen to Lily. "I'm off."

Lily smiles and bushes past me. "Don't worry about it."

"Thanks." I look down at the chart again, staring blankly at the notes I just made. 

"Has anyone seen Dr. Carter?" Someone inquires. I look up briefly. It's Harkins. 

"Lounge."

"Great." 

I blink once more at the chart, shake my head and stash the clipboard with the rest of the pile. Sighing, I rest my elbows on the desk, rubbing the palms of my hands over my face. 

"You okay?"

I roll my head to the side and peer up at the source of the voice. He's looking down at me, his eyes warm and inviting, his smile interlaced with concern and comfort. 

As always.

I shrug. "I just want to go home, take a bath, crawl into bed and forget this week ever happened."

His smile fades and he nods. "You're off now."

"Yeah." I pause and we exchange another look. "Do you want me to wait for you?"

Carter straightens, glancing around at the hubbub of the ER. "I don't know how soon I'm going to get out of here." His eyes drift back to meet mine. "Go home. Put your feet up. Take that bath." His smile returns. "Just don't use up all the hot water." 

I laugh for the first time in what feels like days. "Don't tempt me." 

He opens his mouth to say something more, but the doors to the ambulance bay suddenly burst forth with the latest trauma. 

"I'll see you later." He calls as he rushed towards the action. I smile and nod at his retreating form.

I push myself away from the admit desk and head into the lounge. Fumbling with the combination on my locker, I barely acknowledge the figure standing at the counter, watching me. 

"Long day?"

I frown and look over my shoulder at the source of the voice. "Oh… Yeah."

Susan nods and sits down at the table where a stack of charts wait for her. "You know, sometimes I wonder how crazy I must be to love this job so much."

Pulling my coat and bag out of the locker, I turn around and set them on the table. I smirk. "I'm told it's an acquired taste." 

She laughs at my response. 

My smile fades and I rummage through my coat looking for my scarf. 

"Are you okay?"

Seems to be the question of the day. 

I try to hold back a sigh and fail. "Not really." I look at her. "It'll pass."

She purses her lips together in thought. "It's always hard the first time."

I raise my eyebrows. "What?"

"The first time they leave… It's always the hardest."

I stare at her for a moment. Shaking my head, I pull my scarf from it's hiding spot and wrap it around my neck. 

"You've been talking to Carter." My voice is hard. Bitter.

"He's worried about you."

I shrug into my coat and begin doing up the buttons. "He shouldn't be."

"Abby…"

I look up.

"I know what it's like."

"What what's like?" I challenge.

Susan sighs, leaning forward in her seat. She bows her head for a moment and then looks up. 

"Chloe used to do it all the time… She still does. It's like she's testing me."

"Testing you for what?"

Susan shrugs. "To see how far I'll go."

"Oh." I look at my hands. "How far do you go?"

"However far she needs me to go." 

I nod silently. We're quiet for several seconds. She sits back, waiting for my next question.

"It's always the hardest… The first time?"

She shakes her head. "No… But it's always comforting to think that things will get easier."

I smile. "Unconditional love."

Susan tips her head to the side, returning the expression. "Yeah. The only problem is, we get so used to dishing it out that when it comes time to receive it, we panic."

I swallow "I guess so."

"He really is worried about you."

"I know."

She gives me another reassuring smile that reminds me how lucky I am to have such a good friend, and shifts her gaze towards the charts.

"Well, I should get some of these done if I want to get home at a decent hour tonight."

I laugh. "Yeah. Probably." I pick my bag up from the table and sling it over my shoulder. "I should get going, too."

I make my way towards the door and pause.

"Hey..."

She turns around. "Yeah?" 

I smile. "Thanks." 

She nods. "Anytime."

I watch her turn back to her work before I quietly slip out the door. I give one glance towards the ER before heading out into the evening.

It's always hardest the first time. 

Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. 

I guess we'll see.

***

I twist my head from side to side as I open my eyes. I frown. 

I don't remember going to bed.

I sit up on the bed and take in my surroundings. The lights are off… That familiar nightly glow is back. I look to my side. He's lying on his stomach, one outstretched arm resting casually behind his back and the other shoved underneath his pillow. He's never slept like this before. 

Taking John's advice, I'd come home and taken that bath. He'd returned a few hours later with Chinese food and a movie. I checked my messages on the machine. Still nothing from Maggie. Not that I was surprised. I'd told her not to bother. 

As grateful as I was for his company tonight, there was no mistaking the underlying awkwardness that insisted on weaving itself into the silence that lingered between us. I found his choice of a movie to be quite amusing… As did he, apparently. 

__

Insomnia

I must have fallen asleep sometime during the evening, because I don't remember much else. Funny, I didn't even stir when he carried me into the bedroom. I look over at him again, watching his back rise and fall with the rhythm with his breathing. I reach over and stoke the side of his face gently, my fingers lingering in the warmth of his presence. Sighing, I drag myself out of bed for the second night in a row.

This time, unlike the first night, I traipse into the bathroom first. Turning on the water, I splash some of it over my cheeks and dry them off gently. Brushing my teeth next, I turn around and peer into the bedroom again, looking for any signs that he might be waking up.

I know I'm stalling.

I rinse out the sink and give myself a once over in the mirror, then pad back into the bedroom. I'm still dressed in the sweatshirt and sweatpants I changed into after my shower. I don't need anymore layers, I know tonight won't be as cold as last night was. Still, my eyes wander around the room until they finally transfix themselves on the man lying peacefully in front of me.

I'm tempted to wake him. Shake him. Call his name. Something… Anything to get his attention.

I don't feel like walking alone tonight.

I give up eventually and make my way out to the closet. I'm a little less quiet gathering my things tonight. I wrap my coat around me and tie up my laces in the usual fashion. Grabbing my cigarettes off the table, I shove them into my coat. I pause briefly at the door, looking back into the bedroom one last time.

Nothing. 

I sigh and head outside.

I subconsciously choose the same path as last night, making my way up the quiet street. There are a few more lurkers out tonight, and I do my best to avoid them. Everyone's worried enough about me as it is, there's no need to give them justification for their concerns. 

I pull a cigarette out of my pack and manage to get it lit without having to stop in the middle of the sidewalk. Inhaling a long drag, I'm comforted by the familiar surge of energy that follows. I don't know why, but I've always felt that rush whenever I've had a smoke. It's not something I could explain to anyone, if I was asked…

The perfect smoke. I know this isn't it, and I know it'll probably be ages before one comes again. Maybe never, if I choose to quit for good. Though I always say that. I'll quit for good. And I never do.

It's frustrating, more than anything, to realize that in times of crisis I tend to turn to artificial means of satisfaction. Rather than working through my problems, I choose to bury them in bad habits. I did that with my mother, I did it with Richard… Luka. I did it last year. I'm doing it now. 

The smoking.

The drinking.

Mind you, it's been weeks since my last drink. But the temptation is still there. It sure was last night, and I don't believe it will ever completely go away. That craving. 

It's an addiction, after all. And you never really get over an addiction… Do you?

I brush past an older woman on the sidewalk. She mutters something under her breath. I can't quite make it out. I turn around and watch her walk away, secretly hope that I'll never end up like that.

Oh, who are you kidding Abby? You're wandering the streets in the middle of the night. 

"I have news for you…" I say to myself. "You're already like that."

It isn't long before I come up to that one house, again. All lit up for the holidays. Only this time, I stop, stamp out my cigarette, and study the scene for a moment.

The front yard is decorated with all the trimmings of the season. A giant Santa stands in the corner, his sack slung over his shoulder, a big grin plastered across his fat cheeks. In front of him, a wooden depiction of the very first Christmas takes up any remaining land space. On the other side of the lawn resides a menorah flanked by little penguin cutouts. I frown, shaking my head. 

They sure did cover all the bases. I sigh and move on. 

Would we ever have that? 

I told him I didn't want Christmas, and now… I'm a little sad that I did. I'm not in any sort of holiday spirit, but I knew he was looking forward to our first Christmas together. I shouldn't ruin things for him just because I'm not in the mood. 

Just a few decorations. Nothing too elaborate. I'm still brooding. 

I stop at the next corner and weigh a silent debate of whether or not to keep going. I can see the bar across the street in the distance, patrons filing in and out, music streaming from within. 

I turn my back to the urge walking home.

He's still asleep when I creep in a short while later, though his position has changed. I'm sure he didn't wake up while I was out, or he'd be waiting up for me. 

I stop in the bathroom, running my hands under warm water – trying to edge out some of the numbness. 

Crawling into bed, I pull the covers over me and roll over so my back chest faces his back. I resist the urge to warp my arm around his torso and cuddle up to him for warmth. Instead, I get as close to him as I can without touching him.

It shouldn't be this awkward. 

But it is.

***

"Jerry," I call out. "Where's Pratt?"

Jerry looks up as I approach him, frowning. "Uh… I think he's in triage."

I grip the chart in my hands tightly. "What's your second guess?"

"Lounge?" He suggests, shrugging. 

I shake my head. "Well, when you find him tell him to dis--" I cut out as I spot the young resident walking towards the admit desk. 

"I was looking for you."

Pratt smirks, as he roots through the line of charts. "Really… I always knew you had a thing."

I thrust another one in front of him. "You need to dispo the kid in three." 

He laughs and makes a face at Jerry, who bobs his head up and down in amusement. "I did that already."

"Then why is he still here… And why isn't his chart signed?" I ask, waving the clipboard for emphasis.

Pratt rolls his eyes. "Okay… I guess I fell a little bit behind."

"Yeah, well, catch up." I toss the chart on top of the one he's holding and walk away. 

"Yes, sir…. Man, what's gotten into her?"

I stop, my hands pressed against the lounge door. I take a deep breath before turning around. 

"Just get it done, okay?"

Pratt's head snaps towards me, his face showing as much remorse as he could muster. "Sure."

I nod sharply and turn back towards the lounge. I push the door open a little and freeze when I hear my name being spoken from inside. 

"… I mean, I really want to be there for her, but I can't stand watching her tear herself apart like this."

"You've got to give her time, Carter. She's been through so much."

I bite my lip and inch back, closing the door. I fold my arms across my chest, swaying away from the lounge ever so slightly. His words echo in my head.

I really want to be there for her.

I want to be angry with him for going to Susan first. I thought we were at the point in our relationship where we could come to me with any concerns. I thought he said he didn't want to hide anymore…

__

I can't stand watching her tear herself apart like this.

He isn't hiding, Abby.

You are.

The door to swings open, jolting me to attention. As it closes I find myself face-to-face with Susan. 

"Hey," She calls, brightly. "Just the person I wanted to see."

I perk up. "Really?" 

I search her face for any indication of the tone of her parting with Carter, but come up empty.

"Yeah… You off?"

"Yeah, I am. You?"

Susan rolls her eyes and groans playfully. "I wish." 

"Oh. Was there… Anything that you needed?"

She frowns, shaking her head slowly. "Nope… Actually, I wanted to get your opinion on something, but it can wait. We'll have to have lunch soon, though."

I nod. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Susan smiles knowingly. "He's waiting for you."

I return the smile. "Okay." 

She moves so I can slip past her towards the door. I can see him sitting at the table. 

"You two have a good night."

I look over my shoulder at my friend. "We will."

Pushing open the door, I step into the lounge. His head pops up at my entrance, the familiar smile creeping across on his face. 

"Hey."

"Hi."

***

It's amazing how, after all this mess, I can still find something good about my life. 

Of course, it's isn't a very hard search when that something good is lying next to me… holding me.

I sigh and trace small patterns all over his sleeping chest. I'm still awake, for the third night in a row. 

Something about this seems so frustrating. I'm exhausted, and yet I can't help but lie awake thinking about the reasons why I cannot sleep. As if there's some force that's preventing me from letting go…

I can't relax. There's no release.

I lift my head off his chest and turn over to look at the clock. Rolling back, I prop myself up on my elbow and look down at the man lying beside me.

How did I get so lucky? 

I push. He pushes harder. Never giving up. 

__

I'm not going anywhere.

He's truly lived up to his testament, now. He could have easily walked away. Rejected me. Just like all the others. But he's here. He's committed.

My fingers graze his face lightly - across his temples, his cheeks, around his ears, his mouth. His muscles flinch at my touch, his lips curling up in a small grin. I smile back as I lean down and kiss him.

Wake up.

His hand travels to my back as his eyes flutter open. 

"Hi," I whisper.

He stares up at me, concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Will you take a walk with me?"

He sighs and reaches up, brushing a lock of hair away from my face. 

"I'd love to."

We get out of bed and dress silently. In the other room, we put on our coats and do up our shoes silently. We leave the apartment and head out into the night… Silently. 

For there need be no words. Just each other.

I take his hand once we are outside, travelling up the street. His fingers wrap around my palm tightly and he brings my hand closer to his body. 

"So…"

"Shh…" I look up at him and smile. "No talking."

He nods quietly and looks ahead as we walk. 

We walk like this for several minutes. Our path wanders through the sleepy streets of Chicago. The destination and course of travel are unknown, but it's not the trip I'm interested in. It's my travelling companion.

"Thank you for coming with me."

He squeezes my hand. "Thank you for asking."

I look at the ground we tread. "I won't shut you out anymore."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Abby."

The words hit me like a slap. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

He sighs heavily and stops walking. 

"I just don't want you to set standards for yourself. Abby… I know you're hurting. I know you're upset. And yes… I do wish that you would let me in when you feel like this. I can't help but think that you're forcing yourself to go through this alone because that's what you've done in the past. You're not alone, Abby. Not anymore."

I close my eyes. "I know that, John. It's just that…" I drift off, words failing me.

He responds by pulling me close, wrapping his arms around my shoulders tightly. I take the opportunity to bury my head in his jacket, inhaling him. It's the closest we've gotten since the night he left me in Nebraska. 

"It's just that I want so badly to take away your pain. Sometimes I forget to realize that you're the strongest person I know." 

I laugh. "Hardly the strongest."

He pulls away slightly, looking down at me. "Definitely the strongest. But those walls…"

I smile. "You want me to build a door?"

He kisses my forehead. "It would be nice."

I sigh and gaze up at him. "I'll get right on that, then." 

"Okay."

I catch something out of the corner of my eye and I'm suddenly aware that we're standing in front of that brightly decorated house once more. My smile grows and I try and hold back a giggle. 

He looks down at me, puzzled. "What is it?"

I look up at him. "I was just thinking."

He raises an eyebrow. "About?"

"About… How nice it would be to get a tree." 

"Really?"

I purse my lips together. "Yeah. It's is our first Christmas, after all."

He smiles widely and pulls me closer. "Ah. Well, I think that can be arranged." 

I smile and reach up on my tiptoes, kissing him softly on the lips.

"I love you."

He touches the side of my face, gazing down at me. 

"I love you too, Abby."

I smile at him as I take his hand and turn us around.

"Let's go home… I think I can sleep, now."

*** 


	8. Traditions

Title: Traditions 

Disclaimer: I own nothing of great value, and that includes Abby, Carter and the other cohorts of ER. Those belong to The Powers That Be and the kind folks at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended. I write because I like to write, and I share because I want to. 

Spoilers for 'Hindsight'.

Notes: Carby Christmas to all, and to all a good night. ;o) 

Of all the times for him to be away.

Christmas.

I know he'll be back for the holiday. I know how much he really wanted to see his dad. Spend time with him. And I know he's probably missing me as much as I miss him.

But still.

I was just starting to enjoy the season.

I shut off the tap and dry my hands on the towel hanging next to the sink. Shutting off the light to the bathroom, I busy around in the adjoining room, getting ready for bed. 

I'd gotten off only an hour before, having snared myself a reprieve while the ER was calm. It had really been quite the day. Strange. 

I waited long enough to be assured that Harkins was out of surgery and would make a full recovery. The gossip train was running through the rest of the staff, and I wanted no part of it. Luka, after having talked to the police, was sent home by cab. I couldn't help but feel for him as he walked out the doors. Though, not as much as I felt for the young med-student lying unconscious on a gurney three floors above us. 

What sort of downward spiral was he on? When did it start? 

It was too much for me to put my head around tonight. In the morning, maybe things would look clearer.

And so, I went home. Left the stories and the chatter behind. If the truth wants to be revealed, it will come eventually. 

I pull back the covers on the bed. It'll be weird sleeping alone tonight, knowing he's a thousand miles away and not just working a night shift. It was disappointing to come home tonight to an empty message bank on my answering machine. Even something short, like an "I miss you" or an "I love you". Just something to let me know that he's thinking about me… Even though I never doubt that he is.

I make sure to set my alarm for my morning shift.

I'm grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen when I hear the phone ring. It rings twice more before I'm able to grab the phone in the bedroom.

I look at the clock. It's after midnight in Boston. He wouldn't call now. 

It's probably Susan asking if I want to go out. 

I hit the talk button as I sit down on the bed. "Hello?"

"Hey! You're home."

My heart skips at the sound of the voice on the other end. 

"You didn't think I'd be home?"

"I thought maybe you'd be out doing… The girl thing."

I shake my head and begin to trace the pattern on the sheets with my finger. 

"And you thought you'd call anyway, even though I wasn't home?"

He pauses before answering. "I was toying with the idea of whispering sweet nothings to the answering machine."

"Oh." I blush. "Well, then… Just give me a minute to hang up."

He laughs. "Or I could just relay the message to you."

I smile. "Mmm… I'd probably like that."

"I know you would."

"So… How's your Dad?" 

He sighs. "He's doing okay… I guess. It's all about work with him. No time to relax."

"Aww… You're not having a good time?"

"No, no. I am. It's just… Hard. That's all."

I bite my lip. "I know."

"Yeah. Hey… How was your day?"

"Oh…"

I take a deep breath and push myself back on the bed, resting against the headboard and crossing my legs underneath me. 

He notices my pause. "What's wrong?"

I sigh. "Something happened today."

I can almost hear his eyebrows rise in curiosity. "Really?"

"It's not good."

"Oh. Is everything okay?"

"Umm…" 

Just say it Abby. He's going to find out soon enough. 

"Erin Harkins was in a car accident."

"What?"

"Tonight. She was on her way home and…"

"Is she okay?"

I close my eyes. This wasn't going to be easy. "Uh, not really. She lacerated her liver and had some other internal injuries."

"Abby…"

"They took her up to surgery and were able to repair all of it. She's stable, now."

One the other end, I hear him sigh with relief.

"She wasn't driving, was she? Who hit her?"

"No, she wasn't driving." I sigh. "Look… It's really a long story."

"Too long for you to tell me?" He asks, a twinge of hurt in his voice. 

"No, no… I will tell you. Just… Later." I smile. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too. How's the tree look?"

I sit up. "The tree? Oh, um…"

I get off the bed and return to the living room. There, in the corner by the window, stands a five foot blue fir. Lights, ornaments and tinsel hang from its branches. It's nothing too elaborate, but it's nice to have around – especially now. 

"The tree is fine."

"Good. Don't forget to water it."

I shake my head. "I won't forget to water it." 

"Did you find the star, yet?"

"No," I reply, thinking back to our apartment wide search for the missing decoration a few days ago. 

"Maybe you should look underneath the tree."

I roll my eyes. "John, we looked everywhere. It's gone."

"Would you just look underneath the tree?"

I sigh. "Fine. I'll look underneath the tree." I crouch down and peer under the bottom branches. A brightly wrapped box immediately catches my attention.

"Did you find it?"

I pull the package out. "What's this?"

"Just something I thought we could use. Open it."

I move over to the couch and sit down. I tuck the phone into the cranny of my neck and begin to unwrap the gift, starting with the bow.

"When did you have time to do this?" 

"While you were at work yesterday."

I tear away the wrapping and open the top of the box. There, lying in a bed of styro beads, is a gold and crystal star. 

I gasp.

"It's nothing fancy," He admits.

"No…" I gently lift the ornament out of its protective environment. "It's perfect." 

I stand up and approach the tree.

"I figured, we've got things that I've brought… And things that you've had… I just thought it would be nice to have something that's ours."

I place the star on the highest branch of the tree, making sure it's secure.

"How does it look?"

I step back and take in the whole picture. I smile. 

"It looks… Complete."

"I knew it would."

"I wish you could see it."

"I will. On Sunday."

"Yeah."

"Night, Abby."

"Goodnight, John."

***

Tales of Christmas past. 

As a kid, Eric loved the holidays. He'd wake me up at the crack of dawn, dragging me downstairs. Could hardly contain his excitement. And watching him this way… Neither could I. 

With Maggie in and out of hospitals, we never really knew what to expect from year to year. Most of the time, she was okay during the holidays. However, more often than once, she'd go manic on us, and I'd end up scraping together what I could to see that my brother got the Christmas he deserved. I always made sure he had at least one present to open. Sometimes, it was no bigger than a matchbox car. Still, he never complained or acted disappointed. He understood.

I'll never forget the year he tried to return the favour. I was sixteen, and Maggie was recovering from one of her episodes. No one had thought much about Christmas until almost the last minute – except Eric. He saved up all his money for gifts, and even managed to convince the neighbours to find us a tree. I still laugh at the memory of him trying to drag that six-and-a-half foot pine into the house all by himself.

That night he gave me a hand-made card and a pewter necklace. I cried when I opened them. To this day, I still have both, locked away in a box up in the bedroom closet.

Then one day, I went away to college, and it became harder to spend the holidays with Eric. 

When I married Richard, we debated whether or not to do the Christmas thing. Yet, between my work and his studies, we could barely find the time to devote to such traditions. Later, near the end of our marriage, the festive activities seemed more and more forced until, eventually, they came and went without so much as a nod. 

This year, Richard and his new wife sent out Christmas greeting cards. Go figure.

And then there was Luka. Really… We were only together for one Christmas, but it wasn't all that bad. I worked Christmas Eve and he worked Christmas Day. We had about eight hours together in the middle of the night. He gave me a sweater. I gave him gloves and a scarf. He tried to cook a turkey. That was sweet. We ended up ordering pizza and having sex underneath the Christmas tree. Afterwards he said we should make it our new holiday tradition. 

Some tradition.

This year will be different. And not just because of the man I'm with. It's our first Christmas together, and even though he hasn't said it, I know he's looking forward to it. But he was willing to hold back, if that was what I wanted. So I suggested the tree. 

I want this to be special. I want to snag him under the mistletoe. I want to try and bake shortbread with him. I want him to dance with me to the Christmas Song. I want to curl up on the couch and watch 'It's a Wonderful Life' with him. 

I want to make new traditions with him. 

I want to do all of it. For him. For us. 

***

"Are your eyes closed?"

"Do they look closed?" I tease.

"Put your hands out." 

I oblige, smirking playfully. 

"I swear, Carter. If you put something wet or slimy or…"

He places a small box in my hands. 

The cushion next to me shifts with his weight. "Okay."

I open my eyes and stare at the object in my hands. 

I look at him. "What is it?"

He smiles. "Open it."

I rip away the paper to reveal a flat velvet box.

"Jewelry?" I inquire.

"Abby…" He warns, still smiling.

I grip the box in my left hand and pull up the top with my right. 

"It's a ring."

He nods. "A brass ring."

I frown and look at him. "Like… On those old fashioned carousels?"

"That's exactly where it's from."

"Oh…" I look back at the ring. "… Wow." I stare at it for a moment longer. 

Do I dare ask?

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. "I don't get it."

He laughs and takes the gift from my hand, picking the ring up and setting the box on the table. Taking one of my hands, he turns it palm-up in his and lays the ring in it. 

"When I was a kid, every summer we'd visit Navy Pier. We'd ride the Ferris Wheel, we'd eat cotton candy, we'd play carnival games… We'd ride the carousel, and we would race to see who would be the first to get the brass ring. Of course, I was the youngest… and the shortest, and I'd never win."

I hold back a giggle. "Aww. Poor baby." 

He laughs. "Don't worry… It gets better. The summer after Bobby died, we visited the Pier for the last time. Abby… I was so determined to get that ring. If not for myself, then for my brother. I wanted him to be proud of me. I tried and I tried. I must have spent hours on that ride. But I just couldn't reach it.

"By that time, all the kids were being rounded up to go home. I begged them for one more turn around. And do you know what happened?"

"You got the ring?"

He smiles. "It would be a pretty crappy story if I didn't, wouldn't it?"

I laugh and hold up the ring. "Is this it?"

He nods. 

"Why are you giving it to me?"

He takes a deep breath. "I've never tried for something so hard in my life. I wanted this ring. I dreamed about this ring. And when I got it, it was the best feeling in the world….

"… And then I met you.

"For two years, I thought… dreamt about how much I wanted to be with you. To wrap my arms around you. To kiss you and make love to you. And for a while, I thought I'd lost you….

"You're my brass ring, Abby."

My breath catches in my through and my heart leaps. Tears spring to my eyes.

"Oh, John." I look at the ring and then up at him. "That has to be the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."

His hand cups my cheek lovingly. "You're the sweetest, most beautiful thing that's ever happened to me."

I reach up and kiss him softly. 

"Thank you."

He nods quietly, leaning his forehead against mine.

I sniff away the tears that threaten to fall and laugh lightly.

"You gave me a mushy gift."

He smiles. "Yeah, well… I'm a mushy kind of guy."

I linger in his presence a moment longer and then pull away. I stand and go to the tree, pulling something out from underneath it. I hand it to him.

"Merry Christmas, John." 

He takes the package and studies it while I sit down again. 

"Is it jewelry?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

I swat him on the arm. "Open it."

He responds by turning the gift over and beginning to work on the tape. His fingers work delicately as he tries not to damage the paper. 

It's almost excruciating to watch. 

"You take this task very seriously."

He looks up at me innocently. "It's our first Christmas together. Can I help it if I want to treasure every single part of it?"

"It's two dollar paper. I don't think it was made to be treasured." I retort, my face conveying the playful nature of my statement.

He finally removes the gift from its colourful incarceration. 

It's a medium-sized mahogany box.

He slides his hands over it. "Wow. It's beautiful, Abby." 

I smile. "Open it."

He obeys, lifting the lid. Inside the box are dozens of folded pieces of notepaper. 

"Love letters?" His smile is huge.

I tip my head back and forth. "Sort of… I actually bought this for you a long time ago. Two years ago, I wrote a note to you, but I never had the courage to send it. One note turned into two, and three, and… I wanted you to know how much you meant to me, but there never seemed to be a right time. So I wrote, and put the notes in here, hoping that one day I'd be able to let you in on every single feeling I've ever felt for you."

He stares at me, then back at the box. "Wow… Wow."

I bite my lip. "Do you… like it?"

He looks back up at me, picks up one of my hands and kisses it. "Oh, Abby… I love it. I really do. It's perfect."

I blush. "I'm glad."

He fingers through the pieces of paper. "Will you… Read one to me?"

I nod. "Okay."

He holds the box out to me and I pick up one of the notes. I open it slowly and look at him. He's watching me intently. 

"Um… I wrote this one back in September..."

__

John,

I have no idea what the future hold for us. I don't know what obstacles might lie in wait for us. I have so many questions and so few answers. I'm scared, John. I have never felt like this about anyone before. What we have is so… strong, and yet I do not know if it is strong enough to pass whatever tests fate has in store for us. 

Will we make it? I don't know.

But I do know that I want to make it. I want us to have a future. I want us to fall in love. I want us to share those incredible moments that only lovers can share. I want to live, John. Through you and with you. 

Because you are the man I always dreamed I would find one day. You.

If this is chaos, I don't ever want order in my life again. I'm content, now.

Yours… always. Abby.

I fold the paper again and put it back in the waiting box. 

His face is soft with adoration. "That was… amazing. You're amazing."

I smile warmly. "It's not that hard, when it's you." 

He closes the box and puts it on the table, shifting closer to me and wrapping an arm around me. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure."

He leans in close and tips my face up to his. "You got me a mushy gift, too." 

I lick my lips. "Maybe we should start our own tradition."

His fingers graze my cheek, his hand falling to rest at the back of my head.

"Mmm… I'd like that." He stops and watches me for a moment. "I love you."

"I love you, too." 

His lips descend on mine capturing them in the most tender, sweetest of kisses. My senses soar at his touch, and I sigh against him.

"Hey." I whisper against his mouth. 

He leans over and kisses my shoulder. "What?"

"It's Christmas Day."

He pulls away briefly. "So it is."

He sits back against the couch cushions and draws me to him.

I lay my head against his chest and close my eyes, listening for the beat of his heart.

"Merry Christmas, John."

"Merry Christmas, my love." 

***


	9. I've Been Here Before

Title: I've Been Here Before

Spoilers for "A Little Help From My Friends"

Disclaimer: I don't own Abby, Carter or even the premise to ER. Those all belong to the creators and producers of the show, and the folks at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended. 

I've been here before.

As an OB nurse, we'd dread the call. The couple who would come in, nervous and scared. We'd run through the routine… The ultrasound, the examination, and more. We'd deliver the news, comfort the patients, observe them for a while and then discharge them. Then we'd move on. To a story with a happier ending.

For me, it happened more often, back then.

Back then, it was my job.

I look away from the window as someone enters the lounge. It's Kerry. 

I try to smile warmly. "Hey… Are you ready to go?"

She nods silently and turns towards her locker. I check the buttons on my coat before reaching to pick my bag up off the table. I watch her as she gathers her things slowly… carefully. Something falls to the floor, and she hesitates for a moment before reaching down to pick it up. She stands still, looking at the item in her hands. From behind, I can see her shoulders rise with a shaky breath before sagging back down sadly. I can tell she's been crying, and for a moment I wish I was somewhere else.

I've been here before.

"What time did you get off?" 

I swallow. "About twenty minutes ago."

She turns and looks at me. Her eyes are red, her face flushed and tired. I never thought I'd see her look so… fragile. She glances away and begins to busy herself with her things. 

"You didn't have to wait… I could have taken a cab."

I open my mouth to wave off the inconvenience, but stop. I frown. "You … Didn't bring your car today?"

"No, I…" She pauses, closing her eyes. "I took the El." 

I bite my lip. "Oh."

Kerry opens her eyes, looking at me. "Why?"

I sigh and glance around the room awkwardly. "Carter took his Jeep… " My eyes land on her again. "I can't drive you." 

She lowers her head. "Oh."

I shake my head and turn for the door. "I'll get you a cab."

"No." 

Her voice halts me. 

"I mean… You don't need to do that."

I close my eyes. "Dr. Weaver… You need a ride home."

She stares at me for a moment, as if she's contemplating a fight. Finally she sighs, giving in. "Okay."

I nod and push the door open. 

"Abby?"

I face my boss once more.   


She smiles weakly. "Thank you." 

I return the expression and watch her as she returns to gather her things. Her motions are concentrated, deliberate. She's trying to be strong. For herself. For Sandy. For the baby they lost. 

I've been here before. 

***

I know what it's like. 

It was five years ago, and things were… Things were what they were. Richard was working all the time. I barely saw him. Conversations were rare and more often than not ended up in argument. Money was tight. We were still paying off student loans. Independence was not all it was cracking up to be.

And I was restless. 

Day in, day out, the same thing over and over again. I tried hard to convince myself that I loved my job. That I was happy with my life. My marriage. That I didn't need more. However, something was nagging. Do something with yourself, Abby. Don't be afraid to take chances. 

I'd been sober for less than a year when I decided to go to medical school. Richard tried to talk me out of it. It's too risky. We need the money. Think about it for a few years. What if you don't like it? Don't be selfish, Abby. 

Selfish? 

Typical, Richard. Thanks for the confidence. 

It's a wonder how, amid all the chaos… I ever got pregnant. 

I know what it's like. 

I'd just come home from checking Maggie into yet another psychiatric hospital. Finals and deadlines were looming. I wouldn't ask for an extension or a waiver. I was determined to do it. To prove to him that I could do it. To prove to myself that this was worth it. 

I should have seen the signs. The vomiting. The insomnia. Chalked up to the stress of being a first year med student. I didn't even flinch when I missed my period, despite the fact that I was so regular, you could time the moon phases by my cycle. I was too busy to notice.

Or maybe I was too scared. 

Oddly enough, it was a professor that suggested I have myself checked out. I guess I'd excused myself from class one time too many. I tried to brush it aside, but it was too late. The seed had been planted in my head, and it was more than I could shake off. 

I knew the test was positive the moment I saw the look on the doctor's face. A look I'd seen so many times before, only this time it wasn't directed at someone else. It was meant for me. 

No. It can't be. How?

Six weeks. A mental count confirmed the doctor's prediction. What timing.

Maggie. Richard. School. Work. My sobriety. And now this. 

Why me? Why now?

It's a miracle I passed any of my courses that spring. I pushed the news aside so I could concentrate on my exams, but soon it became hard to ignore such a big event. I couldn't tell anyone. Still… I couldn't act as if everything was okay. Because it wasn't. 

I needed to make a decision. 

I couldn't have this baby. I wasn't at that stage in my life - yet. I could barely take care of myself, never mind a helpless infant with wants and needs completely different from mine. Richard would flip out. We'd never even talked about having children, always so wrapped up in our own lives. And at this point in our relationship, I wasn't sure if I could count on him as a husband. How would I be able to count on him as a father? 

I wanted this baby. From the moment I even considered the possibility, I began to change my lifestyle. I slept more. I stopped smoking. I laid awake at night, thinking of diapers and baby showers and cradles and maternity leave. Everyday I helped new parents bring life into the world. Now it was my turn.

I deserved it. 

I could make this work. I could tell Richard, and he would be overjoyed. We would move into a larger apartment, or even a house. We'd by a crib and a stroller… He'd come to my appointments and enroll us in Lamaze classes. Everything would work. 

But those wishes weren't rooted in reality.

I'd have this baby, and I would raise it. On my own, if I had to. I would take care of it, just like I had Eric. Just like I had taken care of Maggie…

Maggie. 

The thought was always there, lurking in the shadows. It had lined everything in my life to this point. That illness. A disease. It was in my genes. 

What if my baby was bi-polar? Was I ready to raise another Maggie? And if I was, was I ready to put my child through the same mental torment that ruled my mother's life for longer than I could remember?

She called the night before. Crying. Begging me to come and get her. She was scared and alone. She said she loved me and never meant to hurt me. Why did I hate her? 

__

Please, Abby… Please help me.

The next morning, I had an abortion. I couldn't do it. I couldn't subject my child to a life like this.

I've never forgiven myself for the decision I made that day. I never will.

I know what it's like. 

***

I fumble to find my key to the apartment, reaching for the doorknob in front of me. Playing on a hunch, I give it a short twist, smiling to myself as it rotates cleanly. Pushing open the door, I'm greeted by an empty front room. The only light comes from the lamp on the end table, and I toss my keys beside it, kicking the door closed. I drop my bag onto the floor, looking around the room for any signs of life.

Peeking inside the darkened bedroom, I notice light coming from the bathroom. The faint sound of running water drifts from the partially opened door. I smile, imagining him in the shower, going through his usual routine. A small part of me is tempted to jump in there with him, just for some fun. Yet, something holds me back. If he had wanted company, he would have waited. 

Instead, I travel to the kitchen, flipping on the light. I stand in front of the open fridge door for a few minutes, trying to figure out whether I'm hungry enough to eat. I pull out a plate of leftover chicken, followed by the mayonnaise, a tomato, lettuce and a couple of green onions, placing the items on the counter behind me. Looks like sandwiches, tonight.

As I shut the fridge door, I catch sight of the something tacked to the freezer. I roll my eyes and shake my head. I wonder how many times he's going to have to remind me between now and then.

I set about making our dinner, losing myself in the task. I'd like nothing more than to forget about what happened today, but I know that will be easier said than done.

I'd called for the cab, waiting outside with Kerry until it came. And when it did, I offered to accompany her for the ride, just to make sure she got home okay. She smiled, looking up at me with those tired, saddened eyes.

"I think I'll be all right. Thank you, Abby. " 

I watched as she shut the door and settled into her seat. I watched as the cab pulled away and rounded the next corner. I watched until I knew it was safe for me to go. 

I've been there. I know the grief she's feeling. Only for me, it was self-inflicted pain. It was my choice. 

I know she'll be okay in the morning. It's tonight that will be the hardest. 

I'm shaken out of my thoughts as strong arms wrap themselves around my waist, pulling me away from the counter slightly.

He kisses my shoulder. "Hi."

I smile. "Hey."

"What'cha making?"

"Chicken salad sandwiches." I twist my head to the side, inhaling the scent of his freshly shampooed hair. "You hungry?"

"Mmm." He straightens his body and leans against the counter, facing me. "Starving."

I resume cutting up the chicken. "Good."

"Can I help?"

I glance up briefly, winking at him. "I'm not going to say no." 

I pick up the tomato and hand it to him. He takes it carefully and turns around setting it on the cutting board in front of him. Choosing a knife, he begins his appointed task. He slices the tomato with an unusual amount of concentration, his body leaning forward, his brow furrowed. I look over and shake my head, laughing quietly. When it comes to John Carter, there's no such thing as half-assed.

"So umm… Where'd you rush off to?" I inquire.

He pauses a moment before answering. "I uh… I went to help someone."

I nod, pursing my lips together. I glance over at him. "Everything all right?"

He finishes cutting and turns around wiping his hands on his jeans. "Yeah."

"Really?"

He smiles at my concern. "Yeah." 

"Good." I reach behind him to retrieve the tomato slices and playfully elbow him in the side. I grin wryly. 

"Oww." He laughs and brushes past me to get to the fridge. I watch him open it up and pull out the milk carton. He closes the door and ticks the card pasted up in front of him. 

"Don't forget." 

I roll my eyes. "I won't. It's next week, right?"

"Yup." He pulls a couple of plates from the cupboard and sets them beside me before he takes two glasses and sits down at the table.

I cut the sandwiches in half and place them on the plates. "I need to get a dress." 

"You'll look fabulous." 

I pick up the plates and turn towards him. "Easy for you to say, you're…" I stop and look at the package sitting on the table in front of us. 

"What's this?"

He shrugs, trying to hide a smile. "Looks like a present." 

I set a plate in front of him and sit down. I eye the gift first, then the man sitting next to me. "You know you're a day early."

"Actually, I'm only four hours early." He leans forward in his seat and inches the box closer to me. "I guess I'm trying to make up for last year." 

I sigh, thinking back to my not so happy birthday last January. "I think you've more than made up for that." I smile warmly, looking over at him. "What a difference a year makes."

He nods, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Go ahead, open it."

I pick up the gift and gingerly finger the ribbon holding it together. I bite my bottom lip, looking up at him. "Can I wait?"

He considers my request for a moment, a smile creeping its way to his lips. "Sure."

I smile up at him and place the box back in the center of the table. He catches my hand as I withdraw.

"Something wrong?" He asks as he brings our hands down underneath the table.

I shake my head and shrug, fingering my sandwich with my free hand. "Long day." I glance up at him, silently hoping he'll drop the subject.

But I know him better than that.

"Want to talk about it?"

I wiggle my hand out of his grasp. I wish I could tell him what was on my mind, but I promised someone that I wouldn't say anything. I wish I could cry to him and confess my sins, but I promised myself I wouldn't. 

So instead, I simply look at him, watching him as he waits for me. Patiently. I know he understands. 

"Not really." 

He nods quietly, just as I knew he would, and returns to his dinner. I follow, picking up my own sandwich. We're silent for the rest of the meal. No explanations are needed.

And I know he'll follow me to bed tonight. Holding me close. Stroking my hair in usual motion. We'll fall asleep in each other's arms, like so many nights before this one. Because it's us. 

I know what it's like because I've been here before. Only this time, it's different. This time… I'm not alone.

***


	10. Detailed

Title: Detailed

Spoilers for "Saint in the City"

Disclaimer: I don't own Abby, Carter or even the premise to ER. Those all belong to the creators and producers of the show, and the folks at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended. 

Coming soon: Crossover chapters with KenzieGal ("The Long Way").

No one said love would be easy. Relationships don't come with an instruction manual, or even a three-year warranty. There is no 30-day money-back guarantee. You just have to take the good bumps with the bad bumps, and hope the car doesn't stall out on the way to wherever you're going.

Stalled. Stonewalled. Conked out.

It's happened before. I've felt the frustration many times over. The disagreements. The tension. The lack of…forward movement.

I hadn't expected it to last this long. Not with him. Not with us. We had a rhythm going. It was steady… nice. It was comfortable.

And now… I can't describe it.

When did the music stop? 

"And if you call within the next ten minutes, we'll throw in this – "

I hit the mute button on the remote control and toss it onto the cushion beside me. Looking around my dimly lit apartment, I draw my knees up to my chest, wrapping my robe around my legs. I clasp my hands together and rest my chin between my knees, sighing heavily. 

Just a few more minutes.

I close my eyes and allow my mind to wander back through the evening in random fashion. 

__

"I promise, next time we'll so something you want to do." 

I was looking forward to this evening. I wanted to go. I wanted to hob-knob. I wanted to eat canapés… Whatever they were. I wanted to see how the other-half lives. 

I wanted to escape from my life, even just for a few hours.

I wanted to impress him. 

I wanted to know everything about him… This life he feels so compelled to hide. Though I'd never admit to him how curious I was, there was no denying the anticipation I felt as we drove to the gala. How would the evening go? How would Carter hold himself to the crowd? How would he hold me?

And how would I hold my own, so obviously out of my element? I was nervous. I might as well have had "I don't belong here" stickered across my forehead. 

I remember the last time we'd attended an event similar to this, almost two years ago. We were friends, back then. Friends who did favors for each other. Friends who supported each other, whether they were fighting addictions or coping with familial dysfunction. Friends who cared.

Friends who were constantly denying their feelings for one another.

__

"So many people in John's life..."

Gamma. The woman he's held near and dear to his heart for longer than he can remember. His mother figure. The woman who has the power to influence – whether he likes it or not – his way of thinking… His life.

The matriarch.

He says he doesn't care. But he does. I can see it. Tonight, when he turned her down. It wasn't the first time he's done that. Not from the look on their faces as they exchanged pleasantries. They both knew it was coming. 

When you've been trapped in a cycle for this long, all actions pretty much become reflex. The same lines playing out over and over again, like a song you can't get out of your head.

I know he regrets it. The offer, the refusal. The feeling of obligation. As if what he does isn't good enough for them. 

I'm beginning to get the impression that it never was. 

I open my eyes and look at the clock. It's almost midnight. I bite my lip as I lower my feet to the floor.

I know he's not coming home tonight.

Pushing myself off the couch, I pick up the remote and turn off the television. The glow vanishes from the room, leaving darkness in its place. I slowly make my way towards the bedroom, keenly aware of every step I take. 

I hate this feeling. 

I shake my head, trying to clear it. My efforts are useless. His biting words reverberate in my mind.

__

"I know you mean well, but don't try to tell me what to do with my life. Okay?"

If I could count the number of times I've been on the giving end of that line…

But it's different, now, being the receiver. And yet, it seems to be happening more and more often, now. 

Maggie, Luka, Eric…

John Carter. One more to add to the list. 

I flip on the light in the bathroom and squint against the harsh rays that greet my eyes. Standing in front of the sink, I examine the reflection staring back at me.

The damp hair. Those tired, sad eyes. The exhaustion etched in my features. 

Same old Abby? 

Something like that. 

Only tonight… I feel a little more like the old old Abby of times past. It's a familiar image I hadn't expected to see again.

I'd say "welcome back," if I knew that I meant it. 

My eyes wander down towards the sink, spotting my earrings resting beside the soap dish, where I'd left them as I jumped in the shower. I carefully pick them up and gingerly place them in the palm of my left hand. Turning off the light in the bathroom, I enter the bedroom and remove my bathrobe. I stop in front of my dresser and hold the platinum teardrop earrings up to the lamplight, admiring them briefly. A gift from Carter, for my birthday, along with the jewelry case I place them in. My fingers graze over the small carvings on the lid, remembering his words when I first opened it.

__

"I immediately thought of you when I saw it."

"Why?"

"Because it's so detailed. Delicate. Beautiful... Just like you." 

"I'm detailed?"

"Oh, yeah."

"And that's a good thing?"

"Oh, yeah. Trust me, Abby… I love tracing every single intricate pattern you've webbed. There's no place I'd rather be." 

"Thank you." 

"Believe me… It's my pleasure."

I sigh and turn on my heel. Pulling back the covers on the bed, I lower myself to the mattress with concentrated ease. I twist around to adjust the pillows behind me before lying back, resting my head partly against the headboard. Reaching over, I turn off the bedside light, once again leaving myself in darkness. I fold my hands across my abdomen and stare up at the ceiling.

Where are we?

__

"Why don't you just get involved with the foundation and change its priorities? Give the money to health care, education, needle exchange -- I don't know, anything you felt passionate about?"

He thinks that if he gives in, that's it. The end of Dr. Carter. He can't see past it… He can't see how much good he'd be doing if he just…

__

"I feel passionate about what I'm doing, okay? I feel passionate about working at County."

He saves lives. Everyday. He cares – more than most do. He's the most amazing doctor I have ever had the privilege of working with. The most wonderful man I've ever had the privilege of loving. I agree. The world needs John Carter. 

County needs you.

Chicago needs you.

Your grandmother needs you.

I roll my head to the side, looking at his pillow.

I need you. 

But can you even see past the money, and find the good that can come from it? 

__

"I give something more important than money. I give my time, and I do it every day to real people and it makes a difference."

"And I think that's great. I really, really do. But money makes a difference, too".

He has the power and the incentive to change it. But he's jaded. And so, it's become the born and bred have not lecturing the have not wannabe. 

He thinks he knows what it's like. Living paycheck to paycheck. He doesn't.

Growing up, he never had to wonder about where the money was going to come for groceries or heat or electricity. He never had to knock on the neighbor's door, looking for something to eat. He was never veiled in the pity of others.

He never had to be the martyr. 

__

"I'm not ashamed of who I am."

Then why do you hide, John? Why is it that I never get to hear stories about the legacy of John Carters - past and present? Why won't you tell me?

Do you think I'll judge you? Because I won't. I don't.

You are who you are, Carter. No amount of denying is going to change your heritage.

Just like it didn't change your feelings for me. 

__

"There's still lots of kids freezing to death every winter, Carter."

I close my eyes and inhale deeply.

"I'm not the only one with details, Carter…" 

"I know."

I lie still, my heart caught in my throat. 

The bed shifts with his weight. His breathing is slow and even. Calm.

I open my eyes slowly and venture a look across the mattress.

"I didn't think you'd come back."

He sighs. "Yes you did." He turns, facing me, smiling weakly. "You forgot the chain." 

I shrug against the sheets and reach an arm out in his direction. "Force of habit, I guess." 

He takes my offering, gently caressing the back of my hand with his thumb. 

"Abby, you have no idea what it's like to be me."

"And you have barely grasped what it's like to live my life, Carter." I close my eyes briefly and shake my head. "No… That's not what I meant."

"I know." 

I squeeze his hand. "I want to know you, John."

He looks away.

"Where did you go?" I ask, hoping he'll open up.

He stands, letting go of my hand, and begins to unbutton his shirt. "To McNulty's clinic."

I roll over onto my side, propping my head up in my hand. "And?"

"And…" He sits down on the bed and begins to remove his shoes and socks. "… And he ripped up the check I gave him."

I raise my eyebrows. "You gave him money?"

"I tried to give him money…"

I watch him with resounding interest as he removes the rest of his clothing and dresses for bed. Moments later he slips underneath the covers, mirroring my position so that we're face-to-face. 

I smile at his closeness. "What did he say?"

He reaches out, fingering the neckline of my nightshirt, his eyes downcast. "He said he didn't need it."

"Do you believe him?"

He pauses for a moment, his hand lingering near my collarbone. "No."

"Then why do you think he said no?"

Another pause. He looks up at me.

"I figure his pride got the better of him."

We stare at each other for a moment as our eyes exchange their silent apologies. I smile and take his hand, guiding him around me as I roll over onto my other side. He responds to my movements, scooting closer to me, so his back chest rests against my back. I tuck his arm under mine and lace my fingers through his, settling into the pillow. 

The last thing I feel is a light kiss on the back of my neck, as we both slip into a quiet, peaceful slumber.

I know there'll be time enough to dwell on the details in the morning.

But at least, for now, it's a step forward.

***


	11. One Step Forward

Title: One Step Forward

Spoilers for "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished"

Disclaimer: I don't own Abby, Carter or even the premise to ER. Those all belong to the creators and producers of the show, and the folks at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended. 

Coming soon: Crossover chapter post-eps with KenzieGal (aka IAS)'s "The Long Way" series. Read her latest chapter for an inside look. 

"I'm really glad you came." 

I glance up at Eric, watching him admire his plane. I smile. "I am, too."

He turns around, facing me. "I'm sorry."

I shake my head. "Stop saying that. You… You couldn't help it."

His eyes dart around the hanger awkwardly. "That still doesn't make it any easier, does it?"

"Well… No." I close my eyes for a moment, sighing. "Eric, you have to realize that this is only the beginning." 

His gaze falls on me. "I know."

"It's going to happen again." 

He scoffs. "Don't remind me."

"I'm just saying…" I pause and examine his expression, trying to judge how far I should go. "If you keep apologizing now, it's not going to mean much later." 

He nods and smiles knowingly, before turning his attention back to his plane. I stand behind him for a few moments, watching him. His shoulders have risen in the few minutes that we've been here. Is it pride? Maybe. Relief? Possibly.

His or mine? 

It's a far cry from our last encounter. 

"She looks good, doesn't she?" 

I step up beside him and take in his new toy. "Yeah."

Eric looks down at me. "Do you want to go for a ride?"

I laugh lightly and rock back and forth on my heels. "I don't think so."

He pretends to look hurt. "Aww, come on Abby…" He smirks devilishly. "…Chicken?"

"Not chicken. Sober…" I shake my head and throw him a look. "I didn't bring my helmet."

He rolls his eyes at my usual excuse. "Fine, fine. Have it your way." He looks back towards the plane as a thought hits him. "I bet Carter would go."

"I'm not sure about that," I return, smiling as I recall his concern as I left the hospital. 

He shoves his hands in his pockets, mimicking my stance beside him. "How come he didn't come?"

I frown and look up at my brother. "What? Tonight?"

Eric shrugs. "Yeah." 

"Oh. Umm…" I look at the ground briefly and then back up at him. "He had something he needed to do. A patient…" I wave my hand in front of me, brushing the idea aside.

He nods as a smile creeps across his lips. He raises his eyebrows. "Are you two… Okay?"

I blush. "We're good." I bite my bottom lip and return his smile. "We're really good." 

"Ahh…" 

"Ahh, what?"

He laughs lightly and looks straight ahead. "I get it."

"Get what?" I challenge. 

He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. We've played this game before. "You know. Come on, Abby… I'm bipolar, not blind."

I open my mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. I close my eyes and laugh, shaking my head. 

"What?"

I nudge him playfully in the side with my elbow. 

"Shut up."

He raises his hands in defense. "What did I say?"

I sigh and look up at my brother. "I've missed this."

His face softens. "Yeah. Me too."

We exchange a look for a few moments before he smiles again and turns back to his plane. 

"Are you sure I can't take you for a ride?"

"Uh, positive. But thanks for the offer." I push my bag up on my shoulder, adjust my collar and glance behind me. "Come on… I'll make it up to you. Dinner. I'll cook." 

"Oh, um… "

"Hey… it's not that bad."

Eric looks at the ground, shuffling his feet from side to side. "I'm not staying."

I raise my eyebrows. "No?"

His gaze drifts upward, and he puts on his best apologetic face. "I've got an appointment in the morning."

My face falls. "Oh." I pause before shaking my head, trying to mask the disappointment in my voice. "It's okay." 

"Sorry." 

"Don't worry about it." 

"You sure?"

I roll my eyes. "Absolutely." I smile. "We'll do it next time."

He frowns. "Next time?"

"Well… Yeah." I look at the plane. "You've got no excuse anymore."

He laughs at my implication and nods. "No, I guess I don't." 

I catch his gaze once more. There's no hesitation as I reach out, pulling him into an embrace. I close my eyes, burying my nose in his shoulder. 

"Thanks for coming. It really means a lot."

He responds with a sigh and squeezes me tightly. "It means a lot to me to know that I'm still welcome."

I pull away, blinking back the tears that have suddenly surfaced. 

"Always, Eric. I love you."

***

I'm not expecting the sight that greets me as I approach my building.

"Hey."

He raises his head, and I'm struck by the look on his face. 

"Hi."

I climb a step, hovering above him. "Did you forget your key?"

He glances up, just briefly, before shaking his head and looking down the street. 

"No."

Uh oh. 

I try another step and sit down beside him, interrupting the path between his eyes and whatever has conveniently captivated his attention. He shifts his gaze to his feet. 

"Where's Eric?"

I tear my eyes away from the figure perched next to me and look out into the night that sits before us. It's hard to ignore this strange sense of déjà vu. 

"He had to go…" I tip my head to the side and peer at him out of the corner of my eye. "He asked about you."

He nods quietly.

"I told him you were thinking of trekking off to another country and leaving me here all by myself. He said he'd kick your ass if you did."

He looks at me, his expression hard, almost angry. "You told him?"

I shrug. "Sure." I nod my head once, sharply. "You told Luka."

"Abby…" He warns.

"Yes?" I toy.

He sighs and adjusts his gaze straight ahead. "Forget it."

I stare at him for a moment before shaking my head in defeat. "Okay, I give up. What's wrong?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

No.

"Did something happen?"

No response. His gaze remains transfixed on the buildings across the street. 

"Carter?" I reach out a hand and finger his chin, tipping his head in my direction. To my surprise, he doesn't resist, and for the first time since I sat down, I'm able to get a good look at him. The expression on his face makes me want to cry. I roll through the day in my head, trying to come up with something… Anything that would explain the shear disappointment in his eyes. 

And then it hits me. 

"Did something happen at the clinic?"

He blinks once, slowly, and pulls away.

"I said I didn't want to talk about it."

I shrug and look at my hands. "Fine." I pull my bag up onto my lap and begin to rummage through its contents. "Do you mind if I have a smoke, then? I mean, if we're going to be out here for a while."

Silence. I glance at him briefly, then continue my search. 

"Damn."

His head turns. "What?"

I sigh and close my bag. "I smoked my last one this morning." 

"Oh." He thinks about it for a moment, then looks back into the street. 

I stand. "Well, I'm going inside, then." I turn and ascend the stairs, pulling my keys out of my pocket. "Don't forget to lock up when you come to bed."

"How does it feel?"

My hand on the doorknob, I stop and turn back towards him. "Excuse me?"

He shifts on the step to face me. "How does the shoe feel on the other foot?"

I frown. "Is that what this is about?"

He stares at me for a second before shrugging and turning back around. "Never mind."

I remain there, watching his back, unsure of my next move. A mix of emotion envelops me. Concern. Confusion. Anger. 

The tables have been turned.

Is this what it's been like for him? 

What do I do now?

"Carter…"

Nothing. 

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to compose myself. How does he do it?

"Don't stay out too long. It's cold."

Don't stay out too long. I'd miss you.

I turn and unlock the front door, closing it behind me as I head inside. I climb the stairs slowly, keeping my ears peeled for the sounds of his entry. I hear it when I reach the top, but I resist the urge to turn around and wait for him. As if my zeal would cause him to retreat.

I let myself into the apartment and drop my bag beside the door, making sure that it closes only partially. He pushes it open moments later, as I'm taking off my coat. I hang it in the closet and give him a small smile as we change positions. 

I head into the bedroom next, taking off my shoes as I go. I know he's watching me, shaking his head. He's constantly chiding me about walking through the living room in wet shoes. 

__

"You don't like it, get your own apartment."

__

"I've got one. It's kind of lonely."

I'm half-undressed when he finally follows me into the bedroom. It hasn't passed me that we haven't said anything to each other, yet. I don my pajamas and head into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind me.

I catch his reflection in the mirror as I pat my damp face dry and let the water out of the sink. He's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest. He watches me go through my nightly ritual, his eyes unblinking as they fuse themselves to my form. I smile in turn, my cheeks growing hot as they usually do when he looks at me this way.

He clears his throat and enters the room, coming to rest directly behind me. His gaze moves from my body to the image of us framed in the mirror. 

"He's gone." 

I raise my eyebrows. "McNulty?"

"Yeah." He looks down for a moment. "I went to the clinic to drop off his 'script. It was empty."

"Empty empty?"

He nods sadly. 

"Oh, John…" I turn around and look up at him. 

He shakes his head and laughs bitterly. "I can't believe I fell for it." 

I sigh. "It's not your fault… How could you have known?"

"There were ways, Abby. I trusted him."

I reach up and stroke his cheek gently. "I'm sorry."

He closes his eyes and leans into my touch. "Me, too."

I'm tempted to ask him about the money, but I hold back. I'm not so sure I want to know the answer. 

"I'm glad you told me."

He swallows. "Yeah."

We stand there in silence for several moments before I reach behind me and pick up his toothbrush. I hand it to him and smile. 

"I'll be out there."

He grins. "Okay."

I step around him and leave him by himself, closing the door part way for privacy. I step into the bedroom and turn down the bed, flipping off the light in the room and turning on the lamp on the nightstand. Instead of slipping under the covers and lying down, however, I sit on the edge of the bed, facing the bathroom, and wait.

He emerges a few minutes later. 

"Feeling better?" I ask.

He sighs and approaches me quietly. "A little." 

I shift my legs so I'm kneeling on the mattress and extend a hand out to him. "Come."

He takes my hand and I guide him around to the end of the bed, indicating where I want him to sit. He obliges willingly, and I position myself directly behind him. I sit up on my heels and slowly slide my hands up his arms to his shoulders, where I begin to kneed the tight, world-weary muscles that reside there. He moans slightly at my touch, but hangs his head for easier access. I work my fingers over him, stopping every so often to place soft kisses on the tender spots.

"How's that?"

"Mmm… Feels good."

I smile and continue my manipulation around his body. My hands inch down his back, travelling over a familiar spot that deserves special attention. 

"I can't believe it's almost been three years."

Silence. And then "I can."

I finish the massage and move my hands back up around his shoulders, wrapping my arms around him, pulling him closer to me. I rest my chin on his shoulder.

"If you want to go to Chechnya or the Congo, or wherever… I won't stop you."

He inhales deeply, expelling my name on his outward breath. "Abby…"

"Don't try and fight me on this. You're going." 

His hands move across my arms lazily. "I won't go if you don't want me to go."

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" I poke him in the chest. "I swear, Carter, sometimes you can be the most oblivious – " 

I gasp as he cuts me off by grabbing my arms and dropping onto the mattress, pulling me down on top him so we're nose-to-nose.

"Thank you," He whispers huskily. 

I smile. "It's the least I could do..." I close the distance, kissing him. 

"Just promise me one thing."

He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. "Anything." 

"Promise you'll come home to me."

He studies me for a few seconds before reaching up and capturing my lips again.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." 

***


	12. Two Steps Back

Title: Two Steps Back

Spoilers for "No Strings Attached"

Disclaimer: I don't own Abby, Carter or even the premise to ER. Those all belong to the creators and producers of the show, and the folks at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended. 

Notes: This is my first chapter in a series of crossover post-eps with KenzieGal's "The Long Way". If you haven't read her fic yet, I highly recommend that you do! It's amazing. Please consider that while there will be another common thread weaving its way through our chapters, our individual work will remain our own. Her stories won't exactly parallel mine, and vice versa. 

Thank you and Enjoy!

Of all the nights to be alone. Of all the times for untapped messages and bad days at work and missing brothers and globe trotting boyfriends. 

Of all the moments to be weak. 

I should have known it wouldn't take long for the other shoe to drop. If I'd been any more cautious, I would have predicted this long ago. But no. I was distracted. I let my guard down. Sometime between Christmas and the day Eric came to visit me… I became blinded.

Damn it, Abby. You should know better. Hasn't your life taught you anything? Don't set yourself up for anything but the unthinkable. 

I take the last drag on my cigarette and stub it out in the tray resting beside me. I exhale slowly and try to shake the temptation to light up another. My gaze wanders around my darkened apartment - from the television to the bedroom to the kitchen… To the bottle sitting on the table, and the empty glass resting next to it. 

Always expect the worst.

I push myself off the couch, picking up the ashtray as I stand, and make my way into the kitchen. Emptying the remains of my all-night nicotine binge into the trash, I set the tray aside and turn around, coming face-to-face with yet another temptation. It's different, somehow, this one. The movements I make are no longer unconscious. They are very much purposeful, and could potentially ruin the only thing I have right now that is worth fighting for. 

I know exactly what I'm doing. It's as simple as that.

Could I stop myself? Right now, I'm not so sure I want to. And if I did, I'm not so sure I'd be able to. 

One glance at the kitchen table affirms that.

How easy would it be to walk away right now. To go to bed. To fall into a deep slumber. To 'just say no.' To confess my sins and beg for forgiveness. To wait for that happy ending. 

Not as easy as it would be to sit down right here, I realize, as I lower myself onto a chair. I survey the spread set out before me. The opened bottle, its cap long forgotten, seconds after it was removed from the bag. The stout glass with its few remaining drops of tequila pooling at the bottom. I glance up at the sink briefly and consider dumping the rest, but decide against it.

Who knows how many nights like this are in store for me. I might need it, later. 

So instead, I reach for the bottle, dragging it over to me. I turn it around on the table a few times, watching the liquid slosh around inside as it spins on its edge. I lick my lips, the memory of the taste still lingering.

__

Do you believe that… for some people... death is instantaneous?

My eyes drift over to the glass sitting nearby. 

Maybe… If you're going nose first into the water at two hundred miles per hour, it is instantaneous.

Grasping the bottle with a hand, I tip it slowly towards the rim of the glass. I fill it half way and set the bottle back down. I purse my lips and look away for a moment, glancing around my darkened apartment. Waiting for that ominous figure to come creeping out of the shadows. The one that followed me home… The one urging me to give in. Again. 

I lean forward on the table, crossing my arms and resting my head on top of them. I concentrate on the sounds that come in the silence of the early morning. The soothing hum of the refrigerator is counter-balanced by the incessant tick of the clock as it marks away the passing seconds… minutes of my breakdown. 

I just need something. Something to get me through… Or take me away…

Suddenly, something inside me jerks to life, and I push the glass away. It skips on the surface of the table, some of the tequila splashing out over the rim. I reach for the phone sitting beside me. 

I just need something else to hang on to.

My fingers dance over the numbers in automatic fashion. I can feel myself take a deep breath as I bring the phone to my ear and listen for my rescue on the other side of the line.

It rings twice before he answers.

"Hey."

I close my eyes at the sound of his voice.

"Hi."

"What's wrong? Did you hear…" He trails off, not finishing his inquiry.

I shake my head and press my palm face down on the table. "No. I just wanted to hear your voice…"

I hear him sigh on the other end. "Abby…"

I wince and look over at the clock on the wall. "Did I wake you?"

There's a pause before he responds. "No."

I frown. "Really? It's five-thirty in the morning..."

"I was up." 

I smile for a brief moment before I look at the bottle sitting across from me. I take a deep breath and attempt to put on my best nonchalant phonation. "I bet the weather is beautiful, there…"

What I wouldn't give to be lying next to him right now.

"Yeah. I suppose it is."

I trace patterns on the table top with my fingertips. "You got big plans for today?"

"Abby…" 

"Yeah?"

"Stop."

I sigh.

"Do you want me to come home?"

My eyes travel from my hands to the bottle once more as the tears find their way to the surface. 

__

Come home.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

__

I need you.

"I… I'm sure it's nothing." 

"That's not what I asked, Abby."

I swallow once, slowly. "Yes. I'm sure."

We share the silence for a few moments. I don't want to hang up. Not yet. 

I close my eyes and listen to his breathing on the other end. 

__

Come home. Hold me. Tell me it's going to be okay. 

"Okay." 

I smile weakly into the phone. "Go. Have fun."

"Call me if you hear anything."

I nod. "I will."

"Good. And try and get some sleep, okay?"

I roll my eyes. Sometimes he knows me too well.

"Yes, doctor."

I make out the muffled noise of movement from the other end of the line, as if he's shifting his weight. 

"I have to go."

"I know."

"Sleep," He repeats. 

"I'll try…" I bite my lip. "Bye."

Another pause. More movement.

"Abby, I love you. Bye."

I open my mouth to respond, but am silenced by a click and a disconnection. I sigh and pull the phone away from my ear, looking at it sadly. 

I love you, too. 

I set it down on the table and prop my elbows up, resting my head in my hands.

You blew it.

I groan outwardly and rub my face in frustration, trying to knead some sense into my otherwise numb features. I open my eyes and once more peer at the picture painted before me. The table I've set for myself. 

I reach out a hand and mop up some of the spilled liquid with my index finger. I bring it to my lips and inhale deeply before inserting the digit into my mouth, allowing the droplets of bittersweet reality to mingle with my taste buds. 

The sensation that comes next brings back a flood of memories.

My first drink…

My last…

And all the ones in between. 

__

I used to drink because I was miserable.

Back then, it was all about escape. I'd never really been happy. With my life, with my mother, with myself. With Richard. I was already on the path to self-destruction when I met him in my second year at Penn State. At a keg party, of all places. He walked me home that night and stopped by in the morning to make sure I was okay. He was the first person I'd ever met that cared enough to check up on me.

But it wasn't long before we slowly began to lose interest in each other. He turned to his studies to keep him busy, and I threw myself into my job… and booze.

He mentioned my drinking only once. Ironically, it was the night that changed my life. 

I had come home from a long day at the hospital to an empty apartment, as usual, and headed straight for the bedroom. I still remember where I kept my bottle. In my underwear drawer, underneath all the old garments I never wore but refused to throw out, 'just in case'. Jose Quervo was the typical beverage of choice, although in a pinch I would settle for anything I could find. I always thought I was clever at my ways, proud of myself for deceiving those around me for years. Looking back, I'm almost embarrassed by how obvious I must have looked.

That night, I paused during my self-pity party long enough to traipse into the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove, before I headed back into the bedroom and passed out. I never did check to make sure I turned on the right burner. The shrill wail of the smoke detector was enough to alert the neighbors, who came rushing in to put out the fire. 

I was busted. 

I tried to brush the notion aside, telling them that I wasn't feeling well and had taken something to help me sleep. But there was no mistaking the look on their faces. They didn't buy it, and neither did Richard when he came home. 

He gave me an ultimatum. Get help or get out. And as much as I hated him for it, I knew he was right. 

I attended my first meeting out of reluctance, but of my own will. I didn't know what to expect. A part of me refused to face up to the fact that I'd hit rock bottom. I wasn't one of _them_. 

It wasn't long before I looked into the circle and saw a dozen faces that looked just like mine staring back. 

That first night, I was handed a chip. They told me to keep it. Put it in my wallet. In my purse. My car. Somewhere. To remind me of the bigger picture. My quest for sobriety.

On my fifth anniversary, I taped it to the bottom of my underwear drawer.

Shortly after that, I began drinking again. Gave it all up.

And I could have lost it all, and then some, the night Brian attacked me.

But I didn't.

And now there's John.

__

You know, I agreed not to rescue you, help you, or fix you, so I'm just going to shut up and wait for the car wreck.

I look at the glass sitting in front of me, the bottle near behind. I close my eyes. 

It's not worth it, it's not worth it, it's so not worth it. 

I open my eyes and stand, picking up the items off the table. I empty the remains of the glass into the sink, but hesitate with the bottle. I withdraw and cork it, sticking it up on the highest shelf in the cupboard. 

Until next time. 

I turn off the lights in the kitchen and make my way into the bedroom, flipping on the lamp in the corner. I look at the clock. Six-o-nine. I look at the phone. Maggie will call soon. I sigh. Sleep will have to wait.

Playing on a hint of curiosity, I find myself standing in front of my dresser. I finger the pull on the top left drawer, my underwear drawer, and slide it open. Examining its contents, I pick up one pair, then another, as I sift through my respectable underwear and their less-than-respectable counterparts, unconsciously sorting them into their respective sides of the drawer. I reach further into the bin and underneath the folded piece of wrapping paper that I've used to partition the old from the new, as always, feeling around slowly for the chip I had taped to the bottom of the drawer years before.

I frown when my hand gropes a firm package. Pushing aside the fabric obstructing my view, I lean over the drawer for a closer look. I pull out the item and turn it over in my hands. Funny, I don't remember hiding a book in here. I read the title. 

__

'The Little Prince'.

The crease in my brow grows as I stare down at the book. Where did this come from? 

I gaze over the edge of the drawer again, checking for anything else. To my surprise, a CD case and a spiral bound notebook stare back up at me, and I reach in, collecting them both. I take my finds and travel over to the bed, hoisting myself up onto the mattress.

I pick up the CD case first. I flip it over, looking for a title, but come up empty. A look inside the case confirms the presence of a CD, with the words "To Make You Feel My Love" scrawled across the top in handwriting I do not recognize. I stare at the CD for a second longer before putting it down and picking up the last mysterious treasure. 

I graze my finger over the quote on the cover. 

__

'Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be'.

A small smile begins to make its way across my lips as I open the cover of the book, eager to see if my suspicions as to its original owner pan out. I gasp as my eyes fall on the two-page inscription that greets me when I do. My heart skips as a familiar feeling overwhelms me. I'd recognize this penmanship from across the room.

__

Abby - - 

Right now, more than anything, I'd love to see the look on your face once you've found this…

I smile and blink once slowly as my eyes travel over the fastidiously thought out words he's chosen to write to me.

__

… My mind keeps coming back to several conversations we've had the past few months, trying to make some sense of where we've been, where we are and where we're going....

… Each day I realize more and more that life with you is all about the journey, not the destination... 

… I had no idea what you were thinking or the thoughts that passed through your mind. Because I had never heard the words. Words I longed to hear...

I bite my lip, bringing my hand to my mouth. To muffle a sob? I can't be sure.

Still, I read… Captivated by my desire to know what his intentions for me are… His desire to know what my intentions are for him. 

__

… Throughout these pages, I've listed nine of these so-called "pivotal moments" in our relationship...

… I'd like you to first jot down whatever comes to mind when you think back on the thoughts that went through your head at the time...

… the memories you carried away with you from that moment when viewed through the prism of everything that's happened since then...

I frown for a moment, unsure of what to think of his request. 

__

… I'll let you in on a little secret – I'm going to answer the same questions...

… In case you ever get stuck, I've included two items for inspiration…

… The first is a book that's a particular favorite of mine… Gamma used to read it to Bobby and I on the balcony outside her bedroom under the stars...

I look down at the book lying on the bed. 

… even when we're not together, you're still with me. Because you have tamed me…

I sigh softly, the tears welling in my eyes. The ones that refuse to fall.

… The second is a song that perfectly captures where my head and my heart are at right now…. 

… Until the next place. Yours, John…

I set the book down in my lap and look at the ceiling. In the three years that I've known him, John Carter has succeeded in making me speechless on several occasions. However, none of those moments compare to the way I'm feeling right now. 

I'm not sure there are words to describe what he wants. And if there are… Would I be able to find them?

My hand turns the page and I look down at the first entry he's laid out for me. I read the prompt to myself and close my eyes, thinking back to that point in time. How different things were back then. For him. For myself. For us. Was that really where it all began, for him?

When did it begin for me?

I sigh and close the book, leaning back against the pillows. 

I can't do this. 

Not tonight. 

I push myself up off my bed and collect the book and the CD, carrying them back to the dresser. I lay the CD and the book in their respective places. I look down at the journal in my hands one more time before I place it back in the drawer.

Soon, John. I promise. 

I close the drawer and make my way back to the bed, picking up the blanket off the end and wrapping it around me. Lying down, I close my eyes the moment my head hits the pillow.

__

Even when we're not together, you're still with me.

As I drift into a welcome slumber, I can't help but think that … in the light of day … no truer words have ever been spoken. 

***


	13. Unsaid

Title: Unsaid

Spoilers for "A Boy Falling From The Sky"

Disclaimer: I don't own Abby, Carter or even the premise to ER. Those all belong to the creators and producers of the show, and the folks at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended. 

Notes: Lucky number 13…

This is the second installment in a series of crossover post-eps with KenzieGal (aka It's_Always_Something) and her "The Long Way" series. Look for Carter's PoV captured in her latest chapter "My Better Half". A must read for any Carby. Please consider that while there will be another common thread weaving its way through our chapters, our individual work will remain our own. Her stories won't always exactly parallel mine, and vice versa. 

A special thanks to Starsy, who's always been supportive of my work. It's good to have you back.

And to all those readers who have expressed their continued loyalty to the series. I'm glad you're enjoying the ride.

Enjoy.

Expect the unexpected. 

Lockdowns and bi-polar brothers. First kisses in hot, sticky trauma rooms. Trips to Belize and Chechnya. Three feet of snow in seven hours. Tornadoes and butterflies and brass rings and spiral-bound notebooks. Missing planes and bottles of Jose Quervo in the middle of the night.

Waking up next to the man of your dreams, morning after glorious morning. 

Rooftop proposals. 

I sigh and venture a look over at him. That smile still lingers on his lips, twenty minutes after our emotional encounter high above the streets of Chicago. His hair still carelessly mussed from the winds of the helicopter blades. His eyes stare straight ahead, transfixed on the road in front of us as we navigate our way through the drowsy streets of Chicago. Our silence is unmistakable… Knowing. Every now and then, our eyes will meet, and we'll share a look. We both know what the other one is thinking. Few words have been exchanged, but then again, that's not what this is about.

It's about what was said. And what was left unsaid. 

I lean my head back against my seat and close my eyes, rewinding and playing the moment back in my mind one more time.

__

"You don't want me to love you."

  
" Can I decide that for myself?"  
  
"Fine! Decide! What do you want?"  
  
" What do I want? I want you to stop being so afraid!"  


"I'm not afraid!"  


"I want us to stop being so careful!"  


"I'm just ..."  


"I want to marry you!"

"What?"

Had I heard him right? I dared to believe it..._  
  
"I want to marry you!"_

I smile to myself as I recall the sensation that overcame me as my mind confirmed what my heart had predicted. The first one had caught me off guard. The second sealed it. Still… 

"Oh, you're proposing?"

Don't set yourself up, Abby._  
_

"Yeah!"  
  
"You're crazy!"

I thought I'd finished it. Had the last word. No one wants to marry your problems, Abby. 

Of course, he had other intentions._  
  
"Well, then I'll fit right in." _

My eyes grew wide as the beating of the helicopter blades hung strongly in the air. I stared at him in disbelief for a moment, watching as that smile tickled its way across his lips. Was he laughing? 

And it surprised me more when I realized that I was smiling right back at him. 

I sighed and closed my eyes as his hand reached out to tuck a lock of stray hair behind my ear. When I opened them, his expression was different. 

He was serious. 

The intensity of the moment rose then, and it was all I could do to keep from looking away. I blinked once and swallowed my courage.

__

"Are you waiting for an answer?" 

I wasn't sure he heard me, as a look of confusion washed over his face just then. Distraction came from the helicopter above us, as it signaled its departure into the night sky. He was quiet for a moment as he watched it go, before he turned back to face me, taking my hand in his.

__

"Let's go home." 

I roll my head over the back of the seat again and watch Carter as he pulls into his parking stall behind his building. Turning off the ignition, he sighs heavily and looks over at me, still smiling. His eyes are bright and inviting. I reach over and take his cheek in my hand and for the second time that day, lean over and kiss him on the lips softly. I pull back, licking my lips.

"Thanks." 

He raises his eyebrows playfully. "For what?" he inquires with that hint of innocence that only he can so expertly feign.

I shrug and lean back in my seat. "For everything." I lock eyes with his. "For today."

He doesn't say anything in response, but looks away, nodding.

I follow him out of the Jeep and up to his apartment, trailing no further than half a foot behind him. At one point, I reach out and grab his waist, pulling him to a stop. He looks over his shoulder, down at me, frowning. 

"What is it?" 

I open my mouth to answer but reconsider. I shake my head. "I need to call Maggie… She'll be worried." 

He stares at me for a moment, trying to make something of my hesitation. He looks back at his apartment door, and then at me. A bemused smile creeps across his lips again. "You want to call out here in the hall… Or can you do it inside?" 

I roll my eyes and smack him on the back, pushing him forward towards the door. As he fumbles for the keys in his pocket, I waste no time wrapping my arms around his torso. I pull myself to him, pressing my cheek against his jacket and close my eyes.

"Abby…"

"Am I distracting you?"

"No, I just…" He fits the right key in the lock and twists the knob, pushing the door open. Turning around in my embrace, he swings an arm across my shoulders and guides me into his apartment. 

I reach over and flip the switch, revealing an abode that has been somewhat neglected over the past several months. It had been our custom, mostly due to convenience, for us to spend the night at my place, seeing as it was closer to both the El and County General. There had been instances, however, when we would spend an evening or two here, just for a change of scenery. 

I'm aware of the figure standing in front of me, reaching to undo the buttons of my coat. I laugh lightly and push his hand away.

"You looked so deep in thought, I figured I'd help you out." 

I shake my head. "You've done more than enough, today." I wink at him. "I think I can get this one." 

He tips his head to the side as if to say "have it your way", before returning my laughter and unzipping his own jacket. I manage to remove my coat and scarf, which I hang in the closet beside the door and move into the living room. I turn on another lamp and survey the state of the apartment. Not bad for a place that has had more unoccupied nights than most rentals in Chicago. 

His hands are on my shoulders, massaging them gently. He plants a small kiss on my head. "Are you hungry?" 

I shake my head no as I reach for the phone. It's best not to put this off. I have a feeling she's expecting my return. Carter squeezes my shoulders tightly before releasing them and retreating into the kitchen. 

"Coffee?" I hear him ask as I dial my phone number.

I bring the phone up to my ear as I connect. "No thanks." 

He appears in the doorway to the kitchen and waves an almost empty satchel of coffee grinds in front of him.

"Good thing."

I smile and watch him retreat into the bedroom as I pace around the living room, waiting for an answer on the other line.

She picks up after three rings. "Hello?"

"Hey, Mom… It's me."

"Abby." Her voice sounds flat, deflated. 

"Yeah."

"Where are you?"

I look around the apartment. "I'm at, umm… I'm at John's."

She sighs, disappointed. "I see."

Damn. I knew she was waiting up for me.

"Did anyone call?" I ask, attempting to change the subject. 

Unfortunately, my tactic falls a bit short.

"Just the Chicago P.D., calling to tell you what we already know."

I shift my gaze down and bite my lip. "Right." 

A few awkward seconds of silence pass between us. I roll my eyes and take a deep breath.

"Mom, I –"

She cuts me off. "Abby, look. I'm sorry."

I smile weakly. "So am I."

"Can we put this behind us?"

My smile fades as her question sinks in. I don't know… Can we? 

I look at the floor. "No, Mom… I don't think we can." 

Another sigh from Maggie, this one laced with sadness and exhaustion. 

"I understand."

I nod a little. "You should get some sleep. It's been a long two days."

I can almost see her frown on the other end. "You're not coming home?"

I look up towards the hallway leading to the bedroom, watching the shadows of light cascade across the walls. I close my eyes, picturing the man in the next room, waiting for me. 

I am home.

Home is wherever he is.

"No… I'm going to stay here tonight. Go ahead. Take my bed. You need your rest."

"Do you work tomorrow?"

"At ten… I'll stop by to change." I pause, and then add, "We'll have breakfast, okay?"

"I'd like that."

"Use all the locks." I advise, my overprotective nature slipping out for just a moment.

She seems to appreciate the concern. "I will."

"Night, Mom."

"Goodnight, Abby."

I hang up the phone and place it back on its receiver. I glance around the apartment one more time. I can't remember the last time we've come back to his place. It seems… Different. And yet, it's a welcome change.

After what just happened, it only seems natural that we'd be sleeping in the same bed tonight.

I make my way down the hallway and into the bedroom, where I find him standing in front of the armoire, clad only in a t-shirt and boxers, searching through drawers. I lean against the doorframe and take a moment to ponder his words to me on the rooftop.

__

"I want you to stop being so afraid. I want us to stop being so careful… I want to marry you."

"I want to marry you."

How many times have I dreamt of John Carter saying that to me? Granted, it wasn't as romantic as I'd pictured, but still…

He's asked me before. Those unsaid declarations. The way he can convey his intentions without saying anything at all.

Only I've never been able to answer him in quite the same way.

"What?"

I stand up straight and blink a few times to clear my head. "Excuse me?"

He gives me an odd look from across the room. "What's wrong? Did Maggie say something?" 

I shake my head and enter the bedroom. "No… She's fine." I inhale deeply and try and put on my best fake smile. "We're having breakfast tomorrow." 

He raises his eyebrows. "Oh? Well… Good."

I look down at the garments he has in his hands. "What are those?"

He follows my gaze. "I thought you might want these to sleep in."

I bite my lip and take the old Northwestern t-shirt from his hand. I toss it to the side, putting on my best seductive look. 

"Who says I wanted something to sleep in?" 

__

A faint hint of amusement flashes across his face. "You didn't hear it from me…."

I smile and turn around on my heel, heading into the bathroom, where I shed my scrubs, t-shirt, socks and underwear. I pluck his robe off the back of the door and drape it around my body, tying it loosely around my waist. Splashing cold water on my face, I look at myself in the mirror for the first time in what feels like ages.

I'm sorry Eric. I'm sorry I thought the worst, and never gave you the benefit of the doubt. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you.

I'm sorry I can't be the sister you need me to be. 

I'm sorry, John. I'm sorry you had to fly all night and spend all day working just to be close to me. I'm sorry you found me like that this morning. I'm sorry I never thanked you sooner. 

I'm sorry… I'm sorry I can't be a better person for you to love.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to keep the silent apologies from tearing me apart. Not tonight. I turn off the light and head back into the bedroom.

"I thought you didn't want anything to sleep in?" He inquires from his seated position on the bed.

I grin coyly and play with the tie around my waist. "Who says we're going to be sleeping?" I stop just in front of him and wrap my arms around his neck.

"Abby…"

"Shh…" I stop him with a finger to his lips. "No talking. Let's just see how this goes…"

***

I'm truly undeserving. 

How else would you describe a woman who takes so much, but gives so little. 

I gaze up at the man sleeping under me. 

Undeserving doesn't begin to describe it.

I push myself off the mattress with reluctance, tearing myself away from the embrace of a man who has given me unconditional love. I sneak a peek over to the clock on the nightstand.

1:07 a.m.

February 14th, 2003. 

Valentine's Day.

I look down again and trace a finger across his cheek. His muscles flinch at my touch. 

Be mine, John Carter.

Pulling myself out of the bed, I shiver and reach for the robe on the floor and wrap it around my body. I pad my way through the darkness and into the front room where my bag sits. Picking it up, I sit down on the couch and flip on a lamp, partially illuminating the apartment with its warm, soothing glow. 

I retrieve two items from my purse. A pen… And the spiral bound notebook I'd found buried in my underwear drawer less than twenty-four hours ago. 

What a difference a day makes, I remark silently as I look down at the project that has been presented for me. 

My eyes linger over the quote on the cover… 

"Grow old with me, the best is yet to be." 

How long have you been planning this, John? Why is it that things that seem so random suddenly make sense when I'm around you? 

I open the notebook to the page on which he'd listed the first entry he wanted me to write…

__

Pivotal Moment #1. Valentine's Day 2000. The rooftop of County General Hospital.

I look at the clock on the wall, and think back to that fateful night. The night I found my soul mate in one instance, and nearly lost him in the next. 

And the same night almost three years later, when I discovered him all over again.

And so, as the words start to tumble from my mind, I begin to write…

__

February 14th, 2003

Valentine's Day three years ago… A night I feel so compelled to block out of my memory, yet never want to forget. 

I still remember her name. Connelly. Her husband had died only weeks before, and here she was, facing her last moments. She knew it was coming. It was peaceful. She was ready to face it. But I wasn't ready. Of all my hardships, death was not something I had seen a lot in the past. I was scared. I couldn't be sure if I was comfortable enough to handle something like this alone. But I wasn't alone. In more ways than one, Mrs. Connelly taught me about life, love and loss. 

I could barely bring myself to pronounce her that night. I ached for the words she left by her bedside. A sentiment from her one and only who had preceded her: 'Be still my heart.' And eventually… It did.

And then… There you were.

When you found me that night, I was touched by your genuine nature. The way you sought me out, and even cared to bring me a cup of coffee. The way you stood before me. The way you smiled and said that I'd never get used to it… That feeling I got when I realized that I really belonged. I had a place. A purpose. What I did mattered.

I wasn't alone.

And neither were you. 

_The night came crashing down around you shortly afterwards. I can still remember the fear that came over me when I saw you on that gurney. Broken and bleeding. I tried for weeks afterwards to shake the image, but gave up. An event that monumental needs to be remembered. So we can go on. So we can appreciate life, savor it… We never know when the end will come. So we live in the moment._

But your heart would not be stilled. You weren't finished. There was so much more you had yet to do.

The last time we were up on that roof, things were different. For you. For me. For us. That night, it was about comfort. You came to me as a colleague… But you left as a friend.

Tonight, it was about so much more. Tonight you came as my lover, my savior. You came as the one person who can manage to make sense of this chaos. Or can you? 

If I'm afraid, it's only because I don't know what's around the next corner. I inhale deeply, and keep my breath inside me. Afraid to exhale, for fear it may be my last. It could have just as easily been the other phone call, and I… I still wasn't ready. 

I don't think I'll ever be ready. 

And still, in the midst of my turmoil, there you stand. My beacon of hope. My inspiration. My reason to exhale. To give, even just a little. Just like that first night, you comforted me. That's what it's always been about... That night was the first step. Tonight was another first. Another moment in our journey together.

To say I'm not stunned by your declaration would be a lie. You've always managed to move me in the moments when I'm least expecting it. To captivate me with your words and your actions, as if your commitment and devotion know no bounds. 

I want what you want, John. Very much. Yet, I'm not sure I can be the one to give it to you. 

Because I may be the one you crave…

… But maybe I'm not the one you need. 

And so, for now, I lock another memory away. Another moment to look back on, years down the road. Another pivotal moment in a lifetime of moments like it. Past, present, future. 

Another something to hold on to.

Be still your heart, John.

For you have stilled mine. 

I sigh and put down my pen, glancing over my written words before closing the book, tucking it back into my bag, flipping off the light, and tiptoeing back to the bedroom.

He groans a little as I peel back the bed sheet and crawl under the covers. I rest my head on the pillow next to him, draping my arm across his abdomen and snuggling closer to him. Closing my eyes, I wait for sleep to descend upon me again, as I think about where we are, and where we have yet to go.

Three years ago, you told me I wasn't alone. Tonight you renewed that vow. 

And one day soon, I will return it. 

I only hope that when I do, I'm not too late. 

***


	14. Every Girl's Dream

Title: Every Girl's Dream

Disclaimer: I don't own Abby, Carter or even the premise to ER. Those all belong to the creators and producers of the show, and the folks at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended.

Spoilers for "A Thousand Cranes"

AN: I take complete responsibility for the… tardiness of this next installment in the crossover series. For all intents and purposes… IAS was done earlier this week, and she was waiting for me to catch up. There's no excuse other than I've been uber-busy with real-life. The nerve. And I guess I sort of took advantage of the break to get myself caught up… And fell further behind in the process.

This is the fourth in a series of crossover post-eps with KenzieGal's (a/k/a Its_Always_Something) "The Long Way" series, which will continue throughout the remainder of the season. Look for her to pick up the story thread in "Things Her Mother Told me," her current post-ep (Chapter 9) to "A Thousand Cranes." As mentioned previously, while the two post-eps are meant to be read in tandem and there is a common thread interwoven through our chapters, our work remains faithful to Carter's (hers) and Abby's (mine) points of view. Her chapters won't exactly parallel mine and vice versa.

The Serenity Prayer is not mine. And since I don't exactly know who wrote it, I'm using it without permission.

Thanks to Starsy and Kate and all the others at the Carby board that are always kind enough to remind me that I've still got a series that needs updating. To my favourite Luby for being so tough when TPTB went and broke her heart. Chin up, hon. And to my students who are making my time in the classroom such an exciting and rewarding experience. You don't know who you are, but I do. Now go do your homework. ;o) 

Oh, and… Peace. 

So this is what it feels like. To lose everything you never knew you always wanted.

Though, it's not like I **had** it in the first place. And what was there to have, really? It was just a declaration on a rooftop. An empty restaurant. It was just… John Carter… John Carter with a ring.

And a missed opportunity.

__

He didn't mean it.

The persistent whistle of the teakettle snaps me back to the present once again. I should probably remove it from the stove before the neighbors begin to complain of the noise.

I hang the suit jacket and tie over the back of the sofa and head back into the kitchen, grabbing the kettle and pulling out two mugs from the cupboard. 

I fumble with the box of tea bags.

No, Abby. The spoons have always been in the other drawer.

I yelp a little as I reach for the kettle once more, missing the handle. I sigh heavily and turn on the faucet, thrusting my hand under the cold water to relieve some of the pain. I roll my eyes as I glance over my shoulder towards the bedroom, half expecting him to come out – that concerned, loving look etched across his face.

Instead, nothing. 

I dry my hand on the dishtowel and resume my task with a little more deliberate concentration. 

I take a deep breath as I hear him emerge from the bedroom, turning my head slightly in his direction.

"Feeling any better?" I ask as I try to focus on the job of pouring the steaming water into two mugs. 

It's a welcome distraction. Something to keep me busy. Something to keep me from facing him. 

Something to keep me from giving myself away. 

"A little. Showers have a way of working wonders. Though it looks like the chocolate soufflé did me in."

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as he stops inside the doorway, a towel hanging around his neck. I recognize the blue scrub pants he's wearing. They've been lying at the bottom of my closet for ages. For a second I wonder why he chose to wear them tonight, when he's got more than a few pairs of pajamas sitting clean in the dresser drawers.

His dresser drawers. 

I turn around and stare at him for a few seconds.

Tell him you found the ring.

Why didn't you ask me, John?

I shake my head and hand him his mug. 

"Here. Maybe this'll help." 

He takes it with a small smile of thanks, and glances at the sofa where his jacket and tie lay. My eyes follow his, and I bite my lip in disappointment. 

What was once intended… is no longer. 

I tear my eyes away from the other room when I feel his gaze fall to rest on me. I look up briefly and make to move around him. 

I begin to leave the kitchen. "I think I'm going to change now."

But he's faster, catching me by the shoulder. 

"Hey."

He wraps an arm around me, pulling me closer. My lowered head falls in place just below his chin. I close my eyes, trying to think of something other than the beating of his heart or his slow, steady breathing that duets in harmony with my own.

We fit just perfectly like this. 

Still, I pull away mumbling, "It's been a long day," before I retreat cowardly into the bedroom. 

Yeah, that's right, Abby. Run away.

I close door behind me and lean back, resting my head against it. I look up the ceiling, searching for some divine strength. I sigh and shut my eyes for a moment. 

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…

I push myself away from the door and begin to unbutton my blouse as I try to recall the rest of the words to the prayer I'd learned years ago. My mother had taught it to me then, and it was something my mind would wander back to when things were at their worst... as they usually were.

The prayer revisited me again in AA, when I was handed a card one night at a meeting. It played a big role in the program. After that, the idea just kind of stuck with me. Like an old church song… You might forget the words, but the melody always brings you back.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…

The things I cannot change.

__

I don't know if people ever really change.

I quickly remove my clothes and throw on my nightshirt as I head into the bathroom. I yank on the taps in the sink and reach for the face cloth. The room is thick with the humid air of his shower earlier. The scent of him still lingers in the air. 

I glance at myself in the mirror before I bring the washcloth to my face. The picture of an evening of expectation… I shake my head and begin to scrub my makeup off.

I knew what he was up to. Deep down inside… I knew what this whole night was about. From the look he gave me in the ER when he asked me out for "sushi", to his insistence that I wait outside for him… Even his speech that was intended to prelude his proposal. I knew he would ask me to marry him tonight. 

The question is, why didn't he? 

I look at my wet, dripping face in the mirror.

It's easy, Abby. He obviously changed his mind. 

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things… 

He'd finally heeded to my warnings. Run away, Carter. Run away as fast as you can. 

I nailed it tonight. The clincher. The last straw. 

__

I don't know if people ever really change.

The one that did us in. Congratulations. 

I might be blind sometimes… I might be jaded at other times. But I'm not completely clueless. I saw the way he reacted. His facial expression… His body language. A complete one-eighty. And yet… I couldn't bring myself to fix it. 

And now it's too late.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…

I'm an alcoholic. There won't ever be a time when I won't be an alcoholic. It's a part of me, my past, my present, and my future. I can't erase that. 

And I can't change my lineage. My mother, my brother. It's not something I can turn my back on… They need me. I have to learn how to deal with the disease. I have learned how to deal.

__

My life is on hold. You don't want to be on hold.

I rinse myself off and wipe my face dry with the hand towel. I take another look at myself in the mirror and bring a hand up to unclip my hair. I let it fall down across my shoulders and run my fingers through it a few times. I stare at my reflection again, as the words finally come flooding back.

… The courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. 

I screw my face up as I reach for my toothbrush and begin to brush my teeth.

I told myself that he didn't mean it. I talked myself into believing that the declaration on the roof was nothing but a moment of weakness, that he'd soon come to realize that it was a mistake. That he didn't want to marry me. Even as we were sitting in the restaurant tonight, I begged my heart not to expect too much. And when it didn't come, I felt even a little justified. 

It was much easier to discount if it was just an ideal image. A snapshot of how things might be. 

But when I saw the ring, the situation became a whole lot more real than I was comfortable with. I couldn't ignore it any longer. 

And I began to want it.

That proposal.

Every girl's dream.

I finish up in the bathroom and turn off the light as I head back into the bedroom. I turn on the light beside the bed and reach to turn back the covers when I realize that Carter has already done so. I frown. Has he ever done that, before? 

I shake my head and exit the bedroom.

I find him resting on the sofa, one arm bent behind his head, the hand of the other splayed across his stomach. I smile at the peaceful image set before me… The picture of a man I'd come to know, care and love. My face falls as I catch sight of his suit jacket lying beside him… and the dashed dreams that sit inside its pocket. I take a deep breath and creep further into the room. My eyes never leave his form.

Did I break your heart, John Carter? 

I sit down next to him and wage a silent debate about waking him. Part of me wants to shake him and tell him I know… Apologize for the wrongs I have committed… Promise to make it up to him. If only so he'll stay. Beside me. Forever. 

And yet, another part of me wants him to sleep, if only because it means that we don't have to talk about this… If only because it means we're in separate worlds, even for just a little while. Haven't you done enough, Abby? Tomorrow will come soon. Keep your confessions to yourself. He doesn't need to be burdened by you anymore. 

After all, it's not like he's yours for keeps. 

If he was, you wouldn't be sitting here, wondering where it all went wrong. You'd be in his arms. You'd be wearing his ring.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. 

Can I change what happened tonight?

I bite my lip, take a deep breath and gather what little composure I have.

God, grant me the courage…

His eyes open as soon as I speak.

"When I got the call from the ER this morning, about the shooting at Doc Magoo's, Maggie and I were sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast. And all I could do was ask whether anyone was in there. Anyone from the ER. Anyone who might have been you."

His smile is masked by enervation and despair. "Chen and Luka were pretty spooked by it all."

I stare at him for a moment, wide-eyed, before looking at my hands. I shrug weakly. "At least one of them survived."

He sits up, wincing as he does so. "Maggie get home OK?"

I frown and look up at him in confusion. I'm thrown by his sudden want to change the subject. His urge to detach himself from the conversation… To avoid what's really on his mind. That's not like him.

It's more like me. 

Should I push it?

I give in to him, shaking my head. "No, her bus pulled off the highway somewhere near Tomah, Wisconsin in the middle of a snow storm."

"How'd she sound?"

I look away briefly, towards the kitchen. "Holding up as best she can. Still worried about where Eric might be." 

I allow my gaze to fall on him once more, as he watches me with drowsy interest. I smile with awkward amusement and sigh. 

"She's finding it hard living on the outside of the disease. She never thought things looked so much differently from the inside."

He tips his head to the side and looks at something above my head. "Maybe now that she's back on her meds, she'll get over fear of flying."

I roll my eyes. "She asked me to thank you again for the ride." 

He rubs his chin with one hand and settles back into the cushions with a shrug. "It was no problem."

"How long were you two stuck in traffic?"

"About an hour."

I raise my eyebrows. An hour? "Wow. What'd you guys talk about?"

His expression changes once more as he seemingly searches for a proper answer. 

"Everything and nothing. Mostly we just listened to The Pixies." 

He winces again before rising off the couch, his left hand making soothing movements across his abdomen.

"Listen, I'm still feeling kind of crappy. I think I'm going to turn in."

I watch him head towards the bedroom, stopping a few feet from the door. 

"You coming?" He asks, turning back to me.

I shake my head and try to cover up the disappointment that threatens in my voice. "I think I'm going to stay up for awhile. You look like you could use the sleep."

I close my eyes as he backtracks, leaning over and giving me a quick kiss. I listen to his footsteps as they retreat, the sound of the bedroom door being partially closed behind him. 

No.

This isn't how this night was supposed to end, and we both know it.

I open my eyes and look around the empty room.

You blew it.

I rise from my spot on the couch, picking up his empty mug off the coffee table. In the kitchen, I pick up my own untouched tea and empty it down the drain. I rinse both cups and place them in the sink. Turning around, I glance around the room a few times, trying to find something to keep myself occupied until I know it will be safe to go into the bedroom. 

I need to give him that distance, right now. The tables have turned, and it's my turn to be patient. 

And so I'll wait. 

Luckily, I know just the thing that will help me while away the minutes until I too can retire.

I wander back into the front room and over to the door where I put down my bag after work. I reach inside the pocket and pull out that spiral bound notebook that I've kept close over the last several days. I take it back into the kitchen with me and sit down at the table, opening the pages to where Carter has outlined the second prompt for me to respond to…

__

Pivotal Moment #2: Our First Hot Fudge Sundaes at Doc Magoo's.

I smile at the memory of that night, still so vivid in my mind. As all the other memories I've had with him since then… I realize I can recall them with such clarity and detail… It was as if no time had passed in between. I wonder if tonight will be the same… Will I be able to reach back into the recesses of my mind years from now and remember what happened on a night that had the potential to change our lives forever? And if I do, will I recall it fondly, or with an air of sadness for moments gone but not forgotten?

Only time will tell, I suppose.

__

February 19th, 2003

_Two years ago you came to me with a question. A request. You were just embarking on the most arduous journey a single person would ever face… And you were alone. And so you sought me out, much like you had that fateful Valentine's night. _

I was surprised when I saw you at the meeting that morning. I didn't know you were back in Chicago. Maybe I hadn't heard it through the grapevine. Maybe I had been clued in, but was too distracted to register the news. I'd been working through my own trials, trying to figure out how to move on after the rug had been pulled out from underneath me. Either way… I wasn't expecting it.

Nor was I expecting what came later that day.

It had been a particularly heartbreaking shift. Comforting those parents, caring for their premature baby… So much sadness from one little life… So much hope, too. 

A life cut short. A mother and her baby… It's tragedy in its cruelest form. 

And while I tried to be there for them… I couldn't help but think about you, too. And what you were doing. How you were doing. And how I would handle, seeing you again, after our last encounter three months before. Would you hate me? Would I ever be able to look at you the same way?

And what would you think of me, after our eyes met earlier in the day?

Thinking back now, I was wrong to doubt your reaction. Your response. You'd never judge me. Thinking back… I think our alliance began long before that conversation at Doc Magoo's. 

It began in that trauma room, three months earlier. The day you say I saved your life.

But that night, as we sipped our coffee and shared a cigarette, you asked me to be your sponsor. Your sustainer. The support for you during your recovery. It was an honest question… A genuine request. You needed me. 

You were committed to your recovery, and you wanted me to be a part of it.

At first, I didn't know what to say. Here I was, barely holding my own life together, and you were asking me to play a special role in your life. I was touched… And scared. I had no idea whether I'd be able to keep you on the path to your own recovery… When I was fighting off cravings of my own each and every night. But you had faith in me as your sponsor, just as I had faith that you, too, would beat your own addiction and come out a stronger person.

And so, I agreed. I accepted the invitation. If only for a limited time. Just until you found someone else to help you find your ground…

… How's that search going, by the way?

That night, we indulged. We sealed our commitment to your recovery over hot fudge sundaes. And, to be honest… I don't think they've ever tasted the same way for me, since. In fact, I've always had a soft spot for that place since that night. 

It sits nestled in the heart I hold for you.

Today, when I got the call about the shooting a Doc's, I got scared. 

No. 

Not our place.

Not you.

Thankfully, my fears were laid to rest shortly after. You were safe.

And even though others were not… The relief came with the idea that you would be waiting for me when I got to work. Everything would be okay. We would go on.

We would go to dinner, and…I would sit across from you once more… And you would ask me another question. You had another role for me to play in your life… An even bigger commitment for me to make. And though I know it broke your heart not to do it… I'm beginning to think that, deep down, you know it's for the best. And you'll move on…

It's not that I don't think we can change who we are, John…

… It just that, sometimes who we are… Is who we are. 

And we need to accept that. 

I discovered something tonight. And I'm not sure how to deal with it. It was easy before, for me to push away that desire… To think I was just playing up my fantasies. To tell myself that you didn't mean it. But I know otherwise now…

And it hurts to know that your plans didn't go as you wanted, because of me.

I stop and reread the last lines of my writing. There's more I want to say… But I can't bring myself to continue. This pain in my heart is threatening to break me. So I close the book and set it aside for another time. I rise from my spot at the table, turning out the light in the kitchen, and tiptoe into the bedroom.

His sleeping form stretches across the bed, and I pull back the covers and sit down next to him. Laying on his back, one arm draped across his torso, the other flopped to the side, crossing my side of the bed. If I knew better, I would smile at the thought of him lying in wait for me in his dreams… Inviting me to crawl into his embrace. 

Still, not wanting to disturb him, while at the same time longing to be close to him, I lie on my side next to him, resting my head on his chest in the usual fashion. Instinctively, he responds to my presence, his arm snaking around my waist, pulling me closer to him in his sleep. I bite back a tiny sob and reach up, kissing his cheek quietly before laying my head back down. I close my eyes and will myself into instant slumber.

Cherish these moments while you have them, Abby. Who knows how many you have left with him.

***

"Are you going to tell me what this is about?"

Carter smiles shyly, looking at his hands. "We both just deserve a break, especially after a day like today." 

I look down at my hand drawing small patterns on the tablecloth. "Hmmm. More like a month." I glance around the empty restaurant for a moment, my gaze finally coming to rest on him. I smile knowingly. "But what's it really all about?"

I look at him expectantly, watching as he takes a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. 

"So you think this is a keeper?" 

I raise my eyebrows. "The restaurant?"

"Us. You and me." 

Across the room, a violinist begins his serenade.

I frown a little. "Are you okay?" I ask, bringing my hands up underneath my chin.

He sits up again, leaning forward on the table. 

"I've…uh…spent a long time looking for a relationship that I thought would stick."

I stare at him intently, waiting for him to continue. 

"Sometimes it was the wrong person. Sometimes I guess I wasn't ready. Or…uh…in the right place." He waves his hand and glances downwards, as if he's brushing the notion aside. "I think I am now." His eyes travel upwards, a tentativeness flickering across his face. "I really think I am now. Are you?" 

I watch him for a moment as his questions registers with my brain. I smile nervously, glancing away. "John… I -" 

"Because I really want this **to** stick."

I nod and smile warmly. "Me too."

My answer is sincere and obviously the one he was hoping for, I surmise, as a look of relief washes over his face. 

"I know that…uh…" He relaxes in his chair, and I notice his hand slip slowly below the surface of the table. 

"… We've had a rough time and there's still a lot of stuff we have to get through. But we're doing okay. I think we're…" 

He lets out a low, short chuckle. 

"…growing…we're changing."

His eyes find mine once more, as his face begs the question before his lips even try. 

"Do you?"

I gaze at him for a few moments until I can't stand the intensity. I dip my head, pressing my hands on the tabletop.

"John… I…"

He sighs heavily, prompting me to look up. He looks at me expectantly, urging me to continue.

"I'm… I'm not sure if people are capable of changing."

His expression falls. "You're not." 

I purse my lips together and shake my head. "I know that wasn't the answer you were looking for."

He takes a deep breath to calm himself, letting it out slowly. He stares at me, his eyes glazed with disappointment. 

I close my own eyes. If this is the end, I can't bear to watch.

"But, um… I believe that…" I inhale, gathering my strength and will myself to look at him again. I smile weakly. "We certainly haven't done this by the book, have we?" 

He frowns. 

I lick my lips and shake my head, spreading my hands out on the table. "I mean, if there are exceptions to every rule… We'd fit that… Wouldn't we?"

"Abby…"

"We're not in the same place we were two years ago… Two months ago." I laugh and tap the table with my fingers. "We're not in the same place we were two weeks ago." I add quietly, glancing up at him. 

He considers my comment, swallowing slowly. "No, I guess we're not."

"And, um… Even though I don't know… Where we'll be two weeks from now… I just wanted to tell you… That I'm not scared. I'm not scared anymore."

I tuck a hand underneath my chin and gaze across the table. "Because it's us. And that's not something I should be scared of." 

As I finish, I take a moment to study his expression. It's indecipherable. Is he angry? Touched? Will he leave me tonight, in the morning… Or never? The ball is in your court, John. Will we make it? 

I bite my lip nervously. "Say something." 

He gazes me for a second longer before his eyes drift downwards. I watch as he looks at something in his lap and then sits up, pulling his hand out from underneath the table. He clears his throat.

"I had big plans for tonight."

I know. 

I smile at him, my eyes never leaving his face. "Really."

He glances up at me. "Yeah."

I raise my eyebrows and tip my head slightly. "Have they changed?"

He takes another deep breath and looks down at the table. My eyes follow his, coming to rest on a small blue box sitting between his hands. My heart skips a beat.

"John…" 

"No… They haven't."

I manage to tear my eyes away from the box as Carter picks it up and gets out of his chair. He approaches my side and kneels down on one knee. I shift in my chair for a better view, a smile beginning to form across my lips.

It's the moment we've both been waiting for.

Every girl's dream.

Is it his dream too?

"Abby…" He pauses and sighs. "Abby, I've struggled with how I was going to do this for a while now… I wanted it to be perfect. And up on the roof… The other night… That wasn't how it was supposed to happen." He stops and looks down at his hands. "I'm sorry."

I take my cue, raising a hand and stroking his cheek softly. "Sorry for what?"

He looks up, his eyes wide with emotion. "For not doing this properly the first time."

"John…"

"Abby, you've been the biggest part of my life for three years. You saved me, and you showed me that life is really worth living, as long as I'm living it with you…"

He stops and looks at the box. Then, taking my hands in his, he places it in my palm.

"Open it." He urges. 

I comply, unsnapping the clasp and lifting the lid to reveal a sparkling oval diamond atop a delicate platinum band set with smaller diamonds.

My breath catches in my throat as I gaze down at the ring. I barely notice the tears that spring to my eyes until one spills over, down my cheek.

I stare at the resplendent cherub in my hands. Words cannot describe its beauty… It's just… perfect.

He voice draws my back to my surroundings. 

"Abby… I don't know what the future has in store for us. I don't know what is waiting for us just around that next corner. All I know is that… I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to hold you, make love to you. Forever."

I smile through my tears as a familiar phrase comes to the surface. 

"Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be."

His eyes connect with mine. It's the first time either one of us has even mentioned our unspoken bond with the written word. He beams and takes the box from my hands, pulling the ring out.

Another pivotal moment is before us.

Taking my left hand in his, he hovers the ring in front of my fourth finger, pausing long enough to look up at me.

"Abby… Will you marry me?"

I sigh and blink once, allowing another tear to slide down the side of my face. I gaze down at the man kneeling before me. John Carter. The man I love more than I knew I could love.

"Yes."

His eyes grow wide with excitement. "Yes?"

"Yes," I repeat, nodding my head for emphasis. I smile. "I want to marry you, too."

His grin grows fourfold as he slips the ring up my finger to its final resting spot. Leaning over, he kisses it softly before he rises to his feet, pulling me up with him.

I wrap my arms around his neck and gaze into his eyes. "It's beautiful." 

He tips his head forward, brushing away a stray tear on my cheek. "You're beautiful."

"I love you, John." 

"I love you. Will you marry me?" He asks again, an exuberant sparkle in his eyes. 

I pull his head down towards mine, stopping just as our lips are about to touch. "Yes." I whisper, before he takes my lips with his in a soft, romantic kiss.

"Yes, John. I will marry you." 

***

My eyelids flutter open as I shift my weight under the covers. I blink a few times, my eyes adjusting to the dim light in the bedroom. I roll my head to the left, looking at the clock. 6:12 A.M. Great. I have to be up in less than twenty minutes. I groan and rub my hand across my face. Pulling back, I examine it through narrowed eyes. My heart sinks.

I should have known it was only a dream.

Fairytales endings are reserved only for princesses.

And I'm hardly royalty.

I close my eyes again and roll onto my side. If I didn't have a shift, I'd be content to sleep the rest of the day away. I unconsciously reach out across the mattress beside me, expecting him to be there. My search comes up empty, and I venture a peek. 

Terrific.

Sighing, I sit up and pull the covers away from around my body. I stand and look around the bedroom for any signs of his presence in the apartment. Instead I fear the opposite as I spot the blue scrub pants hanging over the edge of the laundry hamper. 

I'm alone.

The lights in the other room are off. His bag is missing from its usual spot next to the door. Even his jacket and tie are gone from the sofa. The coffeemaker is empty. 

If it wasn't for the two mugs sitting in the kitchen sink, I'd be tempted to wager that last night was all a part of some sick fantasy of mine.

Wouldn't be the first time my mind played its cruel tricks on my heart. And it likely won't be the last.

I pad around the kitchen, making coffee and searching the fridge for something safe to eat, even though I'm not very hungry. It's only when I sit down at the kitchen table that I spot the note, sitting there, right in front of me. I slide it over and read it quietly.

__

Abby – 

I forgot I promised Gamma I'd have breakfast with her. Didn't want to wake you, so I went to shower and change at my place. I'll see you at work. 

-- John

I graze a finger over his handwriting as I bite my lip sadly. Something had gone horribly wrong last night, and I'm not sure there is anything I can do to fix the mess I made. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to push aside all the painful consequences that insist on weaving their way through my head. When I open them a minute later, I see my journal sitting across from me, next to where the note had been.

Did he see the notebook? 

It doesn't matter, I realize as I reach across the table and pick up the journal, turning it over in my hands. It's all for him. I open to last night's entry, going over my words.

__

It's not that I don't think we can change who we are, John…

… It just that, sometimes who we are… Is who we are. 

And we need to accept that. 

I look up into the growing dawn of the morning and swallow slowly.

Something about those words running through my head last night… Seem appropriate for this entry.

I get up from the table and creep into the living room. Over to the bookshelves, I scan the titles for a few moments before my eyes land on a particular one. I flip it open and sure enough, tucked inside the book jacket is a small business card. I retrieve it and take it with me back to the kitchen, sitting in front of the journal once more. I set the card down beside me and pick up my pen, turning a page and writing…

__

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…

The courage to change the things I can…

And the wisdom to know the difference…

Living one day at a time,  
Enjoying one moment at a time,  
Accepting hardship as the pathway to peace.  
Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it.  
Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His will.  
That I may be reasonably happy in this life,  
And supremely happy with Him forever in the next.

  
Amen.

I pause briefly at the end, unsure about my ending. I consider adding an explanation about the prayer, but decide against it. If I know John Carter… He already knows. Still, the entry seems somehow incomplete. Like there's more to be said. 

So much more. 

__

Don't go. 

__

I love you. 

I'm sorry. 

I sigh and put my pen down, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples. I'm startled a moment later by a thud outside my door… The sound of a the newspaper being dropped off. Slowly, I rise to my feet and unlock the door, picking the paper off the hallway floor. I close the door and pad my way back into the kitchen, laying the paper on the table before I turn and pour myself a cup of coffee. When I turn back around, I glance down at the front page and find the headline staring back up at me.

FATAL SHOOTING AT HOSPITAL DINER

I close my eyes again as the memory of yesterday's phone call - and the immediate panic that I felt - returns to me. I shake my head to get rid of the image, tossing the paper onto the chair beside me and looking down at the notebook that sits open in front of me.

Suddenly it hits me. I pick up the pen.

__

I never intended to break your heart, John… But maybe it's better that we found out now, before the fall becomes too hard to survive.

I only hope that, one day, you'll get to ask that question again.

And maybe I'll be lucky enough to be the one you ask. 

_Until then I'll tuck away my answer and dream of the day when I can voice it. _

Yes, John. I will marry you.

*** 


	15. The Things That You Said

Title: The Things That You Said 

Spoilers for season 9 up to and including "The Advocate". 

Disclaimer: I don't own Abby, Carter or the rights to ER. No copyright infringement is intended. The only pleasure I get from writing these chapters is purely psychological. 

AN: This is the latest installment in a series of crossover post-eps with KenzieGal's (a/k/a IAS) magnificent "The Long Way" series, which will continue through the remaining five episodes of the season. Look for the companion chapter to the story thread in "Between Worlds", her current post-ep (Chapter 10) to "The Advocate." As mentioned in prior chapters, while the two post-eps are meant to be read in tandem and there is a common thread interwoven through our chapters, our work remains faithful to Carter (hers) and Abby's (mine) points of view. Her chapters won't exactly parallel mine and vice versa. 

The song that is used in this chapter comes to us courtesy of Dana Glover. It's called "Thinking Over" and was recommended to me awhile back for consideration in one of my upcoming chapters. It's got to be the "Abby thinking about Carter" song of the year. The whole CD is called "Testimony IAS has used a couple of Dana's other tracks in her post-eps as well. And to think, we get no profit out of any of this. 

P.S. I promise to try and kick this delinquency habit.

"You caught me on a good night."

I raise my eyebrows at the woman sitting across from me. "Really? On a Monday?"

Alison nods. "Yeah. Believe it or not." She catches my look and adds. "Seems like I'm constantly running around these days."

I purse my lips together and clasp my cup between my hands to warm them. "Family life will do that to you." 

She shrugs and smiles, bringing her own mug up in front of her. "I like it." She takes a sip and sighs, closing her eyes for a moment. "It's nice to get out, though." She peers at me curiously. 

"It's good to see you again, Abby."

"You too." I return with a smile. Quiet settles upon us, and I look down into my coffee awkwardly. "Your phone call surprised me." I admit. 

Alison laughs. "Should I apologize?"

I bite my lip and shake my head. "No." I take a deep breath and look up at her again. "I've actually been meaning to…" I trail off, smiling weakly at my sponsor.

"Then I guess we're on the same wavelength, aren't we?"

I glance around the cafe. "Something like that."

"Abby."

"Hmm?" 

"What's up?"

I stare at her for a moment. "What do you mean?"

She grins with suspicion. "I mean, how are you? It has been awhile…"

I shrug and take a sip of coffee. "Things are good."

"Really?"

I nod. "Really."

She frowns. "Then why…"

"You're the one who called." I point out. "You tell me." 

We exchange a look for several seconds, each one of us challenging the other to speak next. Finally, as if on some rehearsed cue, we dissolve into laughter together, rolling our eyes at this strange game we've been known to play. 

It's just like old times. 

"Ok, ok." Alison sits back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap. Her smile fades, her face taking on a new - albeit familiar - expression, an indication to me that she's about to assume a more direct approach. 

I lean forward on the table, bracing myself for her interrogation. 

"Last time we spoke, you told me about the guy from work who asked you to be his sponsor." 

I knew it. 

"John." I add, trying to hide the pleasure that comes with saying his name. 

"And how's that going?"

"It's…" I pause. How is his recovery going? How am I doing with my role as his sponsor? His friend? His lover? 

"It's going well."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, it was tough at the beginning, you know… But he's done well." I smile. "Very well." 

Alison nods, smiling. "I'm glad to hear that. I bet he's grateful for having you around." 

I blush a little, lowering my head, looking at the table. "Umm."

"During his recovery." 

I flick my fingers across the surface. "Yeah. I think he is." 

I know he is. He thanks me every day.

"Actually, he's probably done more for me, than I have for him." I add, glancing up. 

Waiting for her reaction. 

"I see." 

"Yeah." 

She raises her eyebrows. "Would you care to… Elaborate?"

I bite my lip. "Do I have to?"

Alison shrugs. "No." She smiles. "But you will." 

I sigh, shaking my head and splay my hands on the table top. I do another check around the room as I prepare my confession. 

It's about time I told her.

"I started drinking again last year." 

A flicker of disappointment flashes across her face. "And?" 

I roll my head over my shoulders. "And… He found out."

"Ouch." 

I smirk. "Right." I take another deep breath and attempt to change the mood. "Anyways… We're good now."

She gives me a look that I vaguely recognize. "You are?"

I open my mouth, the word "absolutely" dancing at the tip of my tongue, but nothing comes out. I look down briefly, slightly embarrassed. 

"I forgot how good you are at this."

She laughs lightly. "It's somewhat of an acquired talent."

I return her smile, but it doesn't stay long. I know she's waiting for more. But I'm not sure how much I want to say. 

"Things have gotten… More complicated recently."

"You're still drinking." She offers, making sure I know it's not a question.

"Yes." It's not exactly the truth, but it's not a lie either. I haven't had a sip in over a month. Not since the night Eric disappeared. 

Still, I'm not sober.

"And your relationship with John..." 

I lock eyes with her, and she gives a small smile when she realizes she's hit the nail on the head. 

"He doesn't like the drinking. He's told me so." I shake my head. "I tell him I don't need fixing." I look for a reaction before adding, "I know I need to stop. Not just for him."

Alison considers this for a moment, finally nodding. "How long have you been together?"

I smile and look at my hands. "Officially? Almost a year." 

"And unofficially?"

I shrug. "Like I said, it's complicated." I pause thoughtfully for a moment before I reach down, pulling my bag out from under the table. 

"Do you want to see a picture?" I ask, suddenly overcome with the urge to show him off. 

She sits up eagerly. "Do you have to ask?"

I unzip my purse and begin to shuffle through its contents, pulling out the spiral-bound notebook I have taken to carrying around with me wherever I go. I slip a finger between the pages and slide out a photo, offering it to Alison. I watch as she examines it, trying to read her face. She studies it with careful concentration first, before smiling warmly and flipping it back to me.

"You're a lucky girl."

"Oh, I know." I take the picture and gaze down at it, thinking back to when it was taken. Susan's Christmas party. We're sitting side by side on her couch, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, my hand resting across his thigh. We're both laughing, smiling at each other as we share a tender moment in front of our friends. 

Love. How simple we make it look.

"That's a beautiful notebook." 

I frown, looking at her. "What?"

"Your notebook." She gestures to the journal sitting in front of me. "Where did you get it?"

I look down at the book and shrug, trying to hide another smile. "It was a gift."

"Doing a little writing?" She asks with an eyebrow of inquisitiveness. 

"Yeah."

Alison grins. "Good for you."

I return her expression, sigh and slip the picture back between the pages of the journal, my eyes drifting across the cover for the thousandth time since I first laid eyes on it. 

"Abby?"

"Hmm?" I meet her gaze once more.

"It's so nice to see you again." 

I smile widely at my friend. The times may have changed, and we may both be at different points in our lives now, but the feeling will always remain the same. That comfort, that support. The idea that there's someone out there who's rooting for me. It's exactly what I need right now. 

She beat me to the call. She always has. 

"You too." 

And he'll beat me home tonight. Just like he always does. 

***

I pull my collar up around me as I travel the last half-block to my building. The harsh March wind pushes against me, and I fight to keep my course. It's the damp air that chills me, and I can't wait until I'm at long last inside my warm apartment.

Or, more notably, inside the embrace of the one who's waiting for me.

I take a deep breath and search for the scent of a new season. Spring. In just a few days, we'll mark its coming. Flowers will bloom, trees will bud. We'll open the windows and marvel at how fresh everything smells.

But for now, Mother Nature seems content at squeezing out the last remaining minutes of winter, as the icy breeze voices the old season's reluctance to part without some big send off.

It doesn't realize how much it's worn out its welcome. 

It refuses to accept the idea that maybe, just maybe, it's time for a change.

I climb the steps to my building and search my pockets for my keys in an all too familiar ritual. I can almost hear his laughter now, teasing me about my habits, finally pulling out his own set before guiding me inside with a kiss.

It's a routine I've come to miss over the last few weeks. We've been spending more time apart these days… More nights than I care to mention. More recently, it was self-manufactured fate that had kept us away from each other, as I'd scheduled myself for nights while Carter had drawn the day shift time and time again. The cards just hadn't been dealt in our favor lately. 

But not tonight. Tonight, I know, we will try to make up for those lonely, confusing, heartbreaking moments of separation. Tonight we will be together again.

I continue my search for my keys, directing my attention to my bag. Pawing through its contents, I pass over the notebook for the third time that day.

Susan caught me writing in it during my lunch break this afternoon. I tried to brush off my jumpiness, telling her I was "writing a letter to a friend". Which wasn't that far from the truth. My excuse seemed to placate her, thankfully, as she got the hint and moved on to a different topic.

I finished my entry later in my shift, just before leaving. Just before he confronted me, and nearly tore me in two.

Just when I'm about to give up and ring my apartment, something shiny catches my eye at the bottom of my bag, and I pull out the keys and quickly unlock the door. I laugh at myself, thinking about how amused he would have been if he'd had to buzz me into my own building. 

Sorry, Carter. You're going to have to find something else to chide me about tonight. 

Or better yet, let's skip the playful banter and head straight to the bedroom.

Because if you've missed me half as much as I've missed you, it's going to take more than our typical witticism to distract us tonight.

My anticipation grows as I ascend the steps to the second floor and to my apartment. I pause briefly outside the door and lean against it slightly, listening for any sounds of life from within. Knowing Carter, he's likely sprawled out on the couch now reading some medical journal, having had a shower already.

Or maybe he's fallen asleep waiting for me to come home so we can take that shower together. 

I look at my watch. Ten after ten.

So what if I have a shift in the morning?

I reach for the knob and twist it, expecting it to give to my thrusts and turn with me. When it doesn't comply with my gesture, I frown.

Maybe he locked the door out of habit.

I pull out my keys again and unlock the door, pushing it open slowly. It swings away from me and thuds a moment later, the sound announcing my arrival home. I look up, hopeful that he'll be standing there, ready to take me into his arms and make love to me.

Instead, I'm greeted by darkness.

I frown and flip on the light beside the doorframe, peering around the apartment in dazed wonder. 

The place doesn't look like it's been touched since this morning, when I left for work.

I glance into the kitchen and my suspicions are confirmed. One coffee mug sits in the middle of the table beside a half-read newspaper and an empty milk carton. All signs of untidiness reminiscent of my hasty exit earlier in the day. Had Carter come home and seen that, he would have cleaned up, no questions asked. 

Because that's the kind of person he is. 

But they're still here, which means he's not. 

But… why?

I drop my bag onto the floor and unbutton my jacket slowly, shrugging out of it. I hang it up and stand behind the couch, my mind frantically searching for a reason to explain his absence.

Maybe the ER called him back.

Maybe his Grandmother needed him.

I turn around and look at the answering machine. My heart falls.

Maybe he's not coming home. 

I sigh and drag myself into the bedroom, flipping on the lamp beside the bed. I sit down on the edge and lean down, pulling off my boots. My socks come next, followed by my shirt. I grab his Northwestern sweatshirt, a garment I'd been wearing a lot in recent weeks, and pull it over my head. I stand and turn around, looking at the bed. 

I can't… I won't crawl into an empty bed. Not tonight.

I wander back into the living room again and make my way into the kitchen. I pick up the mug off the table and dump its contents down the drain before placing it in the sink. The carton lands in the trash, the newspaper set aside for a day when I'm in a more cognitive frame of mind. I swipe the rag across the table once before it too gets tossed into the sink. Opening one of the cupboards, I retrieve a pack of matches and head into the other room once more.

At the door, I flip off the switch, surrounding myself in near darkness. Only the light of the bedroom glows – dimly at that. My hands linger around the doorframe, groping for the locks, turning them with concerted effort. I hesitate briefly with the chain, rolling it around in my fingers for a moment before sliding it to its secure place. I close my eyes for a moment before turning towards the couch. 

Striking a single match, I'm able to light the two pillar candles that sit at either end of my coffee table. I put the matchbook down and pad my way over to my CD stereo. I graze my fingers across my albums, perusing the eccentric collection I've accumulated over the last few months. Several of his CD's mingle with mine, and of course, there's the special collection he's romantically dubbed as 'ours'. I linger over a title here, another title there, until I pull out something I don't recognize. Turning the jewel case over, I open it and read the writing on the CD. 

"To Make You Feel My Love"

It's the one Carter had made for me and left with the journal and book in my underwear drawer what now seems like ages ago. I smile sadly at the title before closing the case again and returning it to its position among the others, picking up the remote instead. 

I turn on the power to the stereo and hit track button on the display, forwarding the CD to the song of my choice. I tap the "Repeat" button once and carry the remote with me to the couch. 

Sitting down, I press play on the remote and wait for the soft strains of the track as it begins to filter through the speakers. I turn and retrieve my Burberry blanket from the back of the couch, wrapping it around me as I lie down on the cushions, willing myself to relax and let the lyrics lull me into some contented trance…

** __**

I've been searching for reason and I'm running out of time  
I can feel that it's the season  
Time to make up my mind

I discovered this song about a month ago, the day after our night at the restaurant, the night he didn't propose to me. I had been listening to the radio as I was standing in the shower that morning, trying desperately to wash away the painful memories of the previous evening… Heartache slowly beginning to consume every last marble of hope that had I had stocked on reserve. 

**__**

Am I ready for forever  
Oh God, show me a sign  
'Cause if we're to be together  
Then it's got to be divine

Something about that song… at that moment… Seemed oddly appropriate.

**__**

And I can't really tell ya what I'm gonna do  
There are so many thoughts in my head  
There are two roads to walk down  
And one road to choose  
So I'm thinking over the things that you've said  
I'm thinking over the things

That morning, as I stood in the shower and listened to the lyrics, I couldn't help but wander back over the course of our conversation that night, and what I'd said to make him ultimately change his mind about our future together.

__

"I don't know if people ever really change." 

****

Am I ready for forever  
Oh God, show me a sign  
'Cause if we're to be together  
Then it's got to be divine

Did he really want me to change? And if he did… Would I ever be able to mold myself into the woman he wanted me to be? 

**__**

He wants to marry me, carry me far away  
He wants to love me for life  
He wants to be with me every morning I awake  
He wants to hold me through the night

Would I be willing to change for him, if that's what it took to keep him? And if I was… Would I be happy with myself? 

Was I happy with the way I was now? 

Easy answer. 

No.

**__**

Father, which way should I go?  
I cannot clearly see  
And, oh, I love him so  
But only you know if he's the one for me

I stopped by a music store on my way home that evening. I asked about the song, but no one at the store had heard of it. I couldn't remember the name of the song, and I never did catch the name of the vocalist. All I had to go on were the lyrics… And I couldn't shake their message…

** __**

And I can't really tell ya what I'm gonna do

There are so many thoughts in my head 

The next day, after tossing and turning in an empty bed, I phoned the station on which I'd heard the song. They put me I touch with the disc jockey, and she happily lamented the source and author of the unknown song. She even sent a courier with a copy of the CD, a gracious thank you for being such a faithful listener.

Since then, I've listened to this song several times daily. I've committed the lyrics to memory, the song's soulful melody serenading my internal monologue like a soundtrack to a movie. Fusing itself to my story. 

I sigh and pull the blanket up underneath my chin, closing my eyes. 

  
**_I've been searching for reason and I'm running out of time  
I can feel that it's the season  
Time to make up my mind_**

"I show up for work and you act like a completely changed person. And I think that's great, if that's real. The patch, the sponsor…"

  
_"Real?"_

  
"For real, for you. Or is this something that's gonna get thrown out the window the next time something bad happens. Because if you're trying to prove something to me, like some kind of quick fix…"

I thought he wanted me to change. That speech he made in the restaurant… I knew it was for my benefit. He wasn't happy with where we were – where I was. That wasn't a proposal. It was a reason for not proposing.

Or so I'd convinced myself. 

I don't like brooding. I don't like being so pessimistic. I hate always looking at the dark side of the situation…

I hate what it does to me.

And even more… I hate what it's done to the people I love. 

And yet, I do it. 

Because it's the only thing I know I'm good at.

**__**

Oh, is this where I wanna be?  
Is this where I really am

I really did wake up sick of myself one morning. After sleeping alone for three days, I couldn't stand it any longer. 

I knew I had to change. If not for him… Then for me. 

I had to prove to myself that I was somehow worth it.

That these two broken hearts could somehow be mended. 

That this… the most incredible love I'd ever experienced… Could somehow be salvaged. 

**__**

Oh, is that what you want for me  
Is this where I know I stand

I open my eyes and gaze at the ceiling above my head. 

"What do I have to say? What do I have to do to get through to you?" 

I don't know, Carter. I really don't know.

He didn't come home tonight. Somewhere… Sometime after we parted ways on the street, something inside him made him change his mind.

Again.

I disappointed him.

Again.

It wasn't enough.

I pull a hand out from under the blanket and wipe away a stray tear. I hear my voice crackle into the empty room. 

"I'm sorry, Carter."

I inhale a shuddery breath as more tears surface and spill out over my cheeks. A sob chortles from low within my throat as I work to suppress it

I will not cry. 

I won't feel sorry for myself anymore. 

__

"Stop! Stop! Stop with this whole routine, this whole fatalistic, black cloud, nothing good is ever gonna happen routine." 

"Damn it!" I yell out into the darkness as I pound my fit into the cushions.

If you're committed to this, then you've got to do it completely. The drinking and the smoking… That's only the beginning. There's no such thing as appearances. 

I roll over onto my side, dragging the blanket with me. The track filters out for the second time, and I listen as it spins and begins to play. I close my eyes again, trying to calm my breathing.

Abby… You know he sees right through those facades.

And you know you wouldn't have it any other way. That's the best part about your relationship. 

I'm almost asleep when I hear his key in the door. I sit up and glance behind me as the knob turns. I watch as it starts to open and smile to myself. 

_ ****_

There are two roads to walk down  
And one road to choose

My smile fades as the door jerks against the chain impeding it from swinging all the way open.

His voice filters through the crack. "Abby…"

I remove myself from the couch and approach the door, shedding the blanket in my wake. I stop a few feet away from the door, pausing for a moment. A part of me wants to rip it open and wrap my arms around him, apologizing over and over for once more expecting the worst. Tell him I love him. 

Still, another part reminds me that he could be coming to say goodbye.

_ ****_

And I can't really tell ya what I'm gonna do  
There are so many thoughts in my head

Once more, he pulls me out of my inner turmoil.   


"Abby, it's me…" 

And so I reach for the door, pushing it back slightly as the other hand moves up to unlatch the chain. The hinges groan as I swing the door open, letting it slip out of my hands. It thuds as it hits the small table behind it. I draw my eyes upwards to meet my visitor. 

**__**

Am I ready for forever  
Oh God, show me a sign

He stands there for a moment, watching me with quiet wonder, a slow, adorable grin finding its place across his face. I bite my lip and smile back, my cheeks growing hot as each silent second passes between us.

"You locked me out." He states with a playful tone of matter-of-factness.

I roll my eyes in response. "Hello to you, too." 

I watch him as he steps into the apartment, closing the door behind him, his eyes never leaving mine. 

"Hi."

I close my eyes, purse my lips together and take a deep breath, enjoying the scent that comes with his presence. 

"I didn't think you'd be coming tonight." I admit. 

When he doesn't respond, I dare to open my eyes whilst simultaneously trying to slow my racing heart. 

The look on his face is enough to make me weak in the knees. 

_ ****_

'Cause if we're to be together  
Then it's got to be divine

"I'm sorry."

I raise my eyebrows, tilting my head to the side. "For what?"

"For…" He stops, shakes his head and shrugs. 

I nod. "Me too."

We both smile, exchanging a look that would rival any nuncupative apology.

** __**

So I'm thinking over the things that you've said

He ventures to break the rapture first, turning around and dropping his bag on the floor. He unbuttons his coat and removes it to hang up in the closet. With his back to me, I glance up at the ceiling, expelling a soft sigh of relief. 

I'm so glad you're home. 

His hand is on my cheek moments later, pulling my gaze back down to meet his. He smiles again and rubs his thumb lightly across my flesh. His eyes radiate the kind of tenderness and love that I'd missed over the last few weeks… The kind that I thought I would never get to see again. 

"What's wrong?"

I pause for a moment before answering, my breath catching in my throat. I swallow slowly and shake my head. I know I'm close to tears right now.

"I didn't think you'd be coming home tonight," I repeat. 

He says nothing in response, pulling me close instead. I take my cue, wrapping my arms around his torso and burying my head in his chest, kissing it lightly.

** __**

And I can't really tell ya what I'm gonna do

He inhales deeply in my grasp, and I can tell there's something he wants to say, too. So I pull away slightly, looking up at him. Waiting. 

"Look, I…" He stops himself and looks past me for a moment. He gives his head a shake, looking back down at me. 

"What is it?" I ask, urging him to continue. My hands roam his back, my fingers tracing a line up and down his spine. 

Suddenly, I feel the need to shut the both of us up with a kiss, just to break the tension. But I restrain myself. Sometimes you need to go through hell, in order to get to heaven.

"I don't want you… To change." 

I raise an eyebrow. "You don't?"

"No. Yes…" He sighs. "What I meant to say was… I don't want you to change, just for me." 

What?

I pull out of his embrace reluctantly, turning my back to him. I cross my arms over my chest and look at the couch where I'd made my bed. 

"I told you I wasn't." 

"Yeah, you did. And I… I just wanted to make sure you're doing it for the right reasons, and not because I didn't propose." 

I tip my head over my shoulder, looking over at him. "What are the right reasons?" 

He stares at me for a moment before closing the gap between us, and places his arms on my shoulders, squeezing them lightly. 

"For you." 

I scoff a little, looking back at the couch. "For me?"

"Yes." 

I roll my eyes. "I told you…"

"I know what you told me."

"Then why…" I start, turning around to face him. I stop as a realization hits me. 

"… You don't believe me." 

He sighs. "Abby."

I shake my head. "No. Don't. Don't try and make up for it… I told you. I said I get it. So just…"

I pull away from him again, heading around the couch. I pick up the blanket and pile it beside me as I sit down. 

"Just what?" He asks from behind me. 

"I don't know, Carter. Just…" I sigh and stare at the CD player. 

**__**

Oh, is that what you want for me  
Is this where I know I stand

I throw my hands up in exhaustion. "I can't do this." 

"Abby…"

I cover my face with a hand. "I told myself I wasn't going to do this…"

He's sitting beside me, now. "Do what?"

I stare at him out of the corner of my eye. His expression is one of confusion, sadness…and total adoration. 

He can't keep looking at me like this. 

I can't keep disappointing him. 

I take a deep breath and gaze down at my hands in my lap.

"I really thought you were ready to end it tonight." 

"End what?"

"Us. I thought it was over."

"Oh."

"And even though… Even though I knew it would hurt… Even though I knew it would probably kill me to lose you…" I shrug. "I convinced myself I deserved it."

"Abby…" 

I shake my head and laugh lightly, sniffing away the tears that have suddenly made their appearance. 

"I made myself a promise… That no matter what happened… I wouldn't continue to be like this… I would change. Because I couldn't keep living like this. I couldn't keep hating myself." 

"So, sure… Maybe I did it for you. Maybe this has something to do with what you said to me in the restaurant. All I know is…That night you were going to propose to me…Despite my best efforts to convince myself otherwise…It was all I had ever really wanted…and all I can think about since then is… Why you didn't." 

"I did it for you, but I did it for me, too. So that even if… Even if the end came, I'd have something to keep me going."

I look over at him and bite my lip. "Pretty selfish, huh?"

I watch him as he stares at me for several seconds. I can almost see the cogs running in his head as his mind and heart process my testimony. He blinks twice, slowly, before leaning towards me, taking my face in his hands and kissing me. It throws me for a split second, and then I respond, relaxing. I bring my hands up, resting them on his forearms, squeezing them lightly. I close my eyes and give a soft sigh.

He pulls away a moment later, kissing my bottom lip as he does. He leans his forehead against mine. 

"Do you know how much I love you?" He asks.

I smile shyly, licking my lips. "That's something else I'm working on."

"Mmhmm… Maybe we can work on that together." 

I laugh lightly. "I was hoping you'd offer." 

To my silent dismay, he responds by sitting up, pulling away from me. I watch him as he reaches behind me, grabbing the blanket I discarded, and shifting over to the other end of the couch. 

"Come here."

I oblige eagerly, fitting my body neatly against him, draping an arm across his chest and laying my head on his shoulder. He covers us both with the blanket and encircles me with his warmth and comfort, stroking my hair in that way he does so gently. I sigh happily and snuggle further into his embrace, closing my eyes.

We sit like this for several moments before one of us dares to break the silence. 

"When did you get this CD?"

"Mmmm… I found it a couple of weeks ago," I reply quietly as I tune into the lyrics that filter softly through the speakers. 

**__**

He wants to be with me every morning I awake  
He wants to hold me thru the night

"Not your usual noise."

"I don't know… I guess I was just… drawn to it."

He doesn't say anything, kissing the top of my head as he wraps his strong arms around me. 

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Guess what we're doing?"

He pauses, thoughtfully. "What are we doing?"

I smile and look up into his eyes. 

"We're growing… We're changing." 

*** 

__

Pivotal Moment #3: Our "charity date" at the Natural History Museum

__

March 17th, 2003

Our first date.

It brings a smile to my lips even now, two years later, as I look back on the things that we have shared since then, and still have yet to share…

The books may not dub it so, but I will always and forever remember that night as the night we became a "we". 

John and Abby.

As unofficial as it may have been, there was no denying that we took our friendship to the next level that night. 

Oh it was bitter irony in at its most mocking.

I was with another man.

You were trying hard to stay sober. Living day-by-day. One milestone at a time.

The fates had destined us to remain apart. 

And yet, we were drawn to each other.

I can still remember the tentative way you asked me to accompany you that night. 

You were afraid I'd say no, weren't you?

And the look of amusement on your face when I first answered the door, masked later by a different, more intense expression as I emerged from the bedroom dressed in more appropriate attire. 

I wouldn't be caught dead wearing that dress for anyone but you. 

The hesitant conversation in the back of the limo as we made our way to our evening of enchantment. Neither one of us wanted to put a foot wrong, for fear that one misstep would destroy what had the potential to be so much. 

The way you proudly introduced me to your grandfather. I can't remember a time I ever felt so out of place, and yet so warmly received.

I imagine you're a lot like him… Whether you're willing to admit it or not. 

The way you held me as we danced. The way you looked at me.

Gazing back up at you, I never felt so… beautiful. 

So special.

And, though my heart needed eventual convincing… So loved. 

I couldn't keep count of the number of times you made it skip that night. And it hasn't beat properly since then.

Not even an ex-husband could ruin that evening.

You handled the moment with such poise and dignity. You were my savior, even then. 

I know you wanted to protect me. To keep me from getting hurt. And if I haven't said it before… Thank you. Thank you for not judging me or trying to hold me back. 

Thank you for being my co-conspirator.

For pulling me back into the limo.

For laughing with me.

For an incredible evening.

Thank you for all the nights since then. 

And oh, how I wanted you to kiss me that night, as you escorted me back to my building. 

It took everything I could not to come right out and ask you upstairs.

Because I know that if I had, I wouldn't have been able to control what would have happened next. 

And it would have been a mistake.

On that night.

If only I knew where we'd be, two years later.

I might have thrown caution to the wind. 

I might have sacrificed it all. 

For one more night with you. 

***


	16. Stealing Home

Title: Stealing Home

Disclaimer: Not sure I'd know what to do with them even if they were mine, which is probably why they belong to Warner Brothers, instead. No copyright infringement intended.

Spoilers for "Finders Keepers"

Notes: This is the latest installment in a series of crossover post-eps with KenzieGal's (a/k/a Its_Always_Something) Carter-derived "The Long Way" series, which will continue through the remaining final episodes of Season 9. Look for her newest post-ep "Circling the Bases" to "Finder's Keepers." As mentioned in prior chapters, while the two post-eps are meant to be read in tandem with a common thread interwoven through the respective pieces, our work remains faithful to Carter's (hers) and Abby's (mine) points of view. Her chapters won't exactly parallel mine and vice versa. 

See notes at the end.

***

**__**

Pivotal Moment #4: Our Road Trip to Oklahoma

No one has ever done that for me. 

No one has ever gone above and beyond the call of duty to be there for me. Dropped everything, to be with me. To be with my family. __

Not my father. 

Not Richard. 

Not Luka.

I hesitate to bring any of them up in this passage… This book I dedicate to you, but it's hard not to look back on that journey across the heartland and not try to compare my roadside companion to those I once kept company with. 

Until I realize that the comparison is futile. Until I realize that you are, by far, the most generous, most gracious, most compassionate man I have ever been with. That I have ever loved. 

That has ever loved me. 

I didn't want Luka to come that weekend. His forceful attempts to make me see things his way were too much for me to take at that moment.

I knew what I was doing. Because I'd done it before.

By myself.

Flying across the country to some darkened motel room. Peeling her off the bed. Washing soiled sheets in the bathtub. Scraping enough money together for the debts she'd racked up. Defending myself against her physical attacks. Trying not to cry as I watched my mother – the strongest woman I'd ever known – slowly slip away from me. 

I haven't given her much credit. I talk about the ways she's ruined my life… The countless times I've had to drop everything to be there for her. The way I've resented the life she's forced upon me. 

The life I've forced upon myself.

I've never talked about the good times. When she was on her meds. When she'd be there when I got home from school. When she'd help Eric with his homework, and read to him at night.

When she made my dress for the junior prom. 

When we'd stay up late, gossiping and giggling. 

When she was my mother. 

I did a lot of thinking during our trip across Oklahoma in that convertible. About Maggie. About myself. About you. About us.

About the idea that I'd never taken this trip with anyone else but Eric. 

I wouldn't care to take it again… if I had to at all… with anyone else but you.

My best friend. 

***

"Here we are." I state matter-of-factly as I scrunch my shoulders underneath the layers of clothing I'm wearing. If I was tired after my shift, hauling an extra fifty pounds of wool and cotton up to Wrigley Field only added to my misery. I was still freezing. 

Still, I can't help but sink into his embrace as he pulls me close, guiding my head to his shoulder. I glance up at him as he smiles warmly. "You're a good sport, you know that?"

I laugh and shake my head lightly before turning and watching the end of the third inning in silence. 

Half an hour ago I was ready to give up on this day and retreat to my apartment – alone if I had to. Resigned to the idea of spending another night in front of the television, wondering where it all went wrong.

He'd practically begged me to come along. And, even though I put up a fight, I accepted the invitation. 

He'd gone to all this trouble of making arrangements. I couldn't let him down – even if my body protested the entire time I was getting dressed. It was my heart that convinced me to go.

After all, a crappy date with John Carter was worth more than a thousand nights alone. As long as we were together. 

As the Cubs and Mets trade places on the field, he shifts against me, rising to his feet. I watch him with acute interest as he twists his torso a few times and secretly wonder about the last time we spent this much time together.

"Think I'll head over to the snack bar – looks like management took pity on the roving vendors tonight and let us fans fend for ourselves. What can I get you?"

"Uh… maybe just some coffee."

"That's it?"

I shrug. "I'm not very hungry."

He sighs and rolls his eyes. "C'mon, Abby, you gave up smoking less than two weeks ago. You must be starving all the time. I'd think you'd be dying to try new things now that everything you eat doesn't taste like nicotine."

"What, and give up this girlish figure?" I glance down and pull at the red DePaul sweatshirt that threatens to swallow me up.

"I can think of a few places you can stand to pack on a few pounds." 

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Surely you jest." I challenge. 

He smiles in response and I sigh, giving in. I turn around in an attempt to surmise the ballpark menu amongst the other die-hard patrons. 

"Ok, I'll have a hot dog, mustard and relish, some nachos with cheese. And hot chocolate." 

Hey, if you're going to suffer, you might as well suffer with a full stomach. 

I watch him as he disappears off towards the concession deck and turn back towards the game. I shift in my seat, trying to find some feeling in the lower half of my body, and glance around my section again, studying the other baseball fans. Clusters of groups huddle in various locations, no one row being occupied with more than five people at a time. To my far right sit a father and his two sons, baseball mitts in their hands, waiting for that rare foul ball. I smile to myself as I remember the few Twins games Eric and I went to when we were younger. 

A couple sit two rows in front of me, nestled close in a blanket. Every few minutes, one leans into the other and whispers something into their ear. They smile at each other and share a kiss before returning their eyes to the playing field. 

I glance at the empty seat next to me, and then up the stands towards the concession area, a pang of jealousy rippling through my chest. 

I stand for a moment as the teams trade positions before engrossing myself in the game once more. 

He sits down a minute later and hands me my food. I take it with a smile and we both turn our attention back to the game. Outs for Mark Grudzielanek and Alex Gonzalez, ant then a hum rolls through the crowd as the next player takes his position at home plate, making me realize why there are so many fans out on this chilly April evening. 

Apparently the prospect of witnessing a history making baseball player hit his 500th homerun was incentive enough for some.

"C'mon Sammy, let one rip!" I set my food aside and slip off my gloves. Let's see if I still know how to do this... I stick my fingers in my mouth and blow sharply, startling Carter with the noise that I make. He looks at me, a bemused expression draped across his face. 

I shrug and grin up at him. "At this point, I'll do anything to get warm."

Much to the crowd's chagrin, Sosa taps the ball weakly to first, ending the inning. 

"I didn't know you were such a baseball fan," he admits as we settle back in our seats. 

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye as I watch the Cubs take their place on the field. "I was the star shortstop of my Little League team in Minnesota, remember?" 

"Right. I forgot."

I smile and inhale a breath of crisp Chicago air.

"When I was a little girl, it was an escape from reality. My reality with Maggie. It was something I could do to be just like all the other kids…well, boys mostly since not many girls played baseball back then. Some nights, before falling asleep, I'd listen to the Twins on the radio, and imagine myself escaping to far flung places. Maybe as the Major League baseball's first female umpire or some network's first play-by-play announcer. Or maybe just a baseball wife. You know how little girls grow up idolizing pop icons? Not me. Instead of being married to John Travolta or Shaun Cassidy, my Barbie dolls were always married to baseball players. Ken was usually Steve Garvey or Bucky Dent." 

He chuckles lightly. "What, none of the Twins' hometown heroes catch your eye?"

"Did you ever get a good look at Harmon Kilebrew?" I throw him a playful look as the first batter swings and misses. 

His eyes drift over towards another section of the stadium and nudges me in the side. "See those seats down over there. That's the owners' box. When Mr. Wrigley owned the Cubs, he'd always invite my grandfather – they were old tennis doubles partners – to join him on Opening Day. And he'd always bring Bobby and I along…"

He drifts off at the memory, and I can't help but smile. It's times like these when I can't picture my life without him. I take his hand and squeeze it lightly. 

He returns the gesture. 

"This is such a great old place. Only Fenway Park is older. I remember coming with my grandfather to see the first game played under the lights in the pouring rain – 8/8/88 in case you're superstitious – and just feeling kind of sad. Kind of like the end of an era."

"So did you ever get to meet the Double Mint twins?" 

He laughs again. "No, but I played spin the bottle with one of Mr. Wrigley's granddaughters in prep school."

I lean into his side as we revert our attention back to the game, our hands still locked together. 

We rise to our feet once again as Sammy Sosa steps to the plate at the bottom of the sixth, with the Cubs leading 3-0. 

"Think third time's the charm?" I ask and let another high-pitched whistle reverberate through the air. 

Sosa lines the first pitch into centerfield for a stand-up double as the crowd unleashes a collective groan before providing perfunctory applause. Looks like tonight might not be the night after all. After Al Leiter strikes out Moises Alou to end the inning, even more fans head for the exits.

"If two batters reach base safely before the eighth inning ends, he might get another shot," I point out as an argument to stay. 

He opens his mouth to respond, but is distracted by a commotion on the stairs beside us. We watch as a rowdy group of men trudge their way in front of us, finding rest in the first available seats. They holler to one another, waving their plastic cups of beer in an attempt not to salvage every drop. As they make themselves comfortable, one turns around, eyeing me with undue interest. I exaggerate an eyeroll in his direction, but he turns before he has a chance to misinterpret it. 

I can feel Carter tense at my side, and I lean over to stop him from whatever course of action he's thinking of taking. "Don't. They're harmless."

He raises his eyebrows at me before shaking his head and turning attention back to the game. 

A few minutes later I glance over and catch him staring at another drunken patron seated in front of him. I smile with amusement and try to focus on the player stepping into the batter's box. But the crowd in front of us distracts us once more, and I hesitate before changing the subject.

One more glance at the lug sitting in front of Carter and the words spill out before I have a chance to stop myself.

"So what did you think of Chuck?" I pause, glancing over for his reaction. "Or is that topic still off limits?"

He thinks about it for a moment, pretending as if his opinion wasn't at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be spoken. "He seemed nice enough…not exactly Susan's type…"

I knew it.

"And that would be…"

"I don't know, certainly not your average lug."

I stare at him in disbelief. "What? You're telling me it's fine for a doctor to be married to a lowly nurse as long as he's the one wearing the pants in the family…but as soon as the roles are reversed…"

"Abby, get off your soapbox…" The annoyance in his voice rises in crescendo with the noise emanating from the group in front of us. 

Still, something compels me to push the issue. "No, it irritates me the hell out of me that you would…"

He cuts me off. "It's not him that's the problem. Mostly, I'm just worried about Susan. And the idea that she'd just go traipsing off to Las Vegas with Chen and get married instead of getting takeout with the first guy who gave her the once over on the plane…even if it was a meaningless spur of the moment thing…"

I sigh in frustration. "Carter, where's your sense of romance?"

"Sorry. I must have left it up on the roof at County." He lobs with bitter ferocity. 

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Our emotional outburst is interrupted as the crowd once more rises to its feet for the top of the eighth, and it doesn't take long for the fans to catch on that the remainder of the game will fare less than the first seven innings.

"Now playing right field, replacing Sammy Sosa…" 

Disapproval rings through the air, the loudest and crudest coming from the inebriated bunch in front of us.

"Guess number 500 deserves a moment in the sun." Carter wanes as he begins to gather our belongings. 

I shrug and glance towards the exit. "Win some, lose some."

"Ready?" He asks, holding out a duffel bag. 

I stare at him for a moment before accepting it. "Yeah."

And as we head out silently into the night, an uneven air of tension stretches between us. It's an atmosphere neither one of us can ignore, but one which neither one of us is ready to confront. 

So we wait and see what happens next.

***

__

And as I think about the time we spent wandering the open roads, I ache for the time when everything with you felt so… simple.

Easy.

Carefree.

And I wonder… When did all that change? When did the burden of being together become more than the pain of being apart?

I miss you, John. 

I miss the way you once touched me. Carefully and gently. As if any harder, and I would break under your fingertips.

I know I teased you about it back then, but now… I long for your soft caresses. 

I miss the awkwardness. The hesitant way we danced around each other for two years… The stolen glances in the ER. The way you'd be able to catch my eye from across a crowded AA meeting. The smiles that came with those looks. 

And later… The way we'd sneak a moment in an empty exam room, the way you'd whisper lusty secrets in my ear at the admit desk.

I miss the newness of our relationship. From the casual conversation during the day, to the romantic interludes at night.

That lightness. It's missing. And I'm afraid. 

I'm afraid of losing you. We're so incredibly close to the edge, and it's only a matter of time before one of us gets pushed over.

Some days I think that if I grabbed your hand, we'd be able to save each other.

Or at least, fall together.

Sadly, I think we're beyond that, now. 

We're beyond the banter, the conversation laced with whimsy and lighthearted humor. We're beyond the soothing touches and the tender lovemaking against a moonlit canvas. 

Now our words are lined with unspoken frustration. With each other, with ourselves.

And on those nights we are together, there's no mistaking the canopy of obligation that insists on blanketing us. 

***

Tell me I'm dreaming. Help me realize that all of this is a figment of my imagination. Let me down easy, and catch the pieces of my heart as it breaks. Stay with me until I begin to breathe again. Just… Watch.

I thought I would feel better. God, I wanted this so much. Just to hold him… make love to him. Surround myself with his scent, his warmth. His love.

I should open my eyes. I should open them and look at him… Watch him while he sleeps. I should stroke his face and whisper his name, planting soft kisses across his chest. I should savor this moment… Our passion. 

It should make me feel good, right?

Then why do I feel so guilty?

My eyelids twitch a few times as I force them open and blink against the moonlight. My gaze drifts from the hand I've splayed across his chest, to the tangle of our legs beneath the cotton sheets. I take a deep breath and roll my head upwards as my eyes travel across the relaxed features of his face. Beads of sweat dot his forehead, a lingering reminder of the heated encounter that had landed us in this position on the bed only minutes ago. 

Bodies tangled.

Hearts racing.

Desire punctuating the darkness.

It had been the least of my expectations for this evening. I'd wondered if I'd ever have the opportunity… The privilege of making love to him again.

His lunge took me by surprise, especially considering that I practically had to seduce him to join me upstairs tonight…

__

"Thanks for coming with me."

I shrugged, smiling. "It was fun."

He raised an eyebrow at me as a grin crept across his lips. "Liar."

I rolled my eyes and shifted my feet on the pavement – moving closer to him. Inching up on my toes, I lowered my voice. "I really did have a good time."

He watched me for a moment before responding. "What did it for you? The windchill or the less than stellar ballgame?"

I tipped my head to the side thoughtfully. "More like the man I was with." I licked my lips and leaned in. "Thank you," I added as I slid my hand around his waist.

"Abby…"

I closed the distance, capturing his lips with mine in a soft kiss. I felt him sigh as his hand slid up around my neck to cup my cheek. He pulled back a moment later.

"Abby - "

"Come inside, Carter."

"Abby, I can't."

I took a step back, looking towards my building. "Not even for coffee?" I asked.

"It's late." 

I glanced up at him. "I don't remember that ever stopping you before," I returned, not bothering to hide the bitterness in my voice. 

"I've got an early shift."

"So do I."

"Abby."

"Carter."

He paused for a moment and looked up the street. Shaking his head, he laughed lightly and turned back to face me, taking my hand and entwining his fingers around mine. 

"Please?" I tried again, my voice a little softer, more desperate. 

"Okay." 

I sigh and pull myself up off the mattress. He responds to my movement, groaning clutching the sheets with his hands. His chest rises and falls with an intake of air and he settles back into the pillow. I bite my lip sadly and squeeze his arm before pulling out of the bed.

I pad my way to the bathroom and flip on the light, squinting against the darkness. My eyes wander towards the mirror over the sink and I look away quickly. I have no real desire to criticize my naked reflection tonight. So instead, I turn my attention to the shower I'd originally planned before I'd been so passionately distracted. I smile to myself as I turn on the taps, recalling the hungry, determined look in his eyes as he challenged me to stop him. It fades, however as I try to rationalize his intentions behind his actions.

What's your motive, John Carter?

I turn on the shower and step under the stream, sighing as the hot water begins to pound against my back. I stand there for a few minutes, just letting the water play its rhythmic beat against my body. Perhaps some sense will wash over me. 

Guidance. Because I have no idea where I am, what I'm supposed to do, or what will happen next. 

John would never give me pity sex. And I would never ask him to.

Were his advances tonight an attempt to replace the lack of emotional closeness we'd been experiencing lately? 

Was he trying to prove something? To himself? To me?

I can't help but reminisce the last time I felt this way…

Luka. 

I kick myself for the reference. 

I recall the awkward way the three of us made conversation in the elevator. Or, as Luka called it later, "little talk". Things between us are good now… Tolerable, at the very least. 

At least he's trying to move on. 

I reach over to the shelf and grab the shampoo, flipping the cap and depositing some in my hands. I return the bottle to its place of rest and begin to work the soap into my hair as I allow my mind to wander back over the day's events.

One highlight sticks out. 

Susan.

Married. 

To a nurse, no less. 

I don't know what to make of the announcement, much less her reaction to it. She seemed almost… insouciant about it. As if making a life commitment to a man she knew less for less than 48 hours was no big deal. Her aloofness seemed as almost out of character as her choice of a husband.

But then again, people are bound to surprise you if you let them in close enough.

Carter was a little less than comfortable with the news. And I don't blame him. Really. As a friend, I would expect him to have reacted in much the way that he did. That's the way he is. Protective. Concerned. 

Overbearing, sometimes.

Or maybe that's the jealousy talking. 

Still… She's married. And there's nothing we can do about it. Except, of course, wait and see what happens. 

It should have been us. 

As if on cue, I can hear movement from behind the shower curtain as his presence enters the room. He pauses first, then seconds later I hear the closing of the medicine cabinet. 

"Did I wake you?" I inquire as I turn to face the shower. 

He mumbles something that I can't quite make out.

"I'm sorry," I reply anyway, as I dip my head under the pulsing stream to rinse the shampoo out of my hair.

I gasp as a cool rush of air greets my backside as the curtain pulls back, but before I can manage a protest, he's stepping in behind me. I open my eyes and peer over my shoulder. 

"I'll be done in a minute." 

He doesn't say anything, choosing instead to reach around me and pull the loofa off its hook, holding it under the water for a few seconds as he fumbles with the shower gel. I smile to myself and resume my rinse before I turn around and face him.

"Thought I needed some company?"

He smiles coyly as he works the loofa into a lather before dropping it onto my shoulder.

"More like I decided Ineeded some company," He replies as he drags the poof across my chest. 

"Oh."

We stand there in contented silence for a few minutes as he works the sponge up and down my arms, over my torso and around my shoulders. I sigh at the feel of his fingers tracing absent patterns in the wake of the soap suds and choke back a small giggle when he tickles that sensitive spot at the back of my neck. 

"You next?"

He remains mute, a captivated look etched across his face as he admires my body and the concentrated tactic he's maneuvering over it. It's been awhile since I have seen that look of awesome wonder in his eyes, and my heart wrenches at the idea that I'm worried I'll never see it past tonight.

I look down between our bodies as he guides the loofa down my back. "You have an early shift…"

"So do you…"

"John…"

"Abby, stop." 

I look up, frowning. "What?"

He only smiles before planting a small kiss on my nose. "Don't talk. Just let me do this." 

My lips press together as I gaze into his eyes. I nod quietly and bow my head once more as he resumes his gentle wash up and down my back. Closing my eyes, I think back to the first time we shared a shower together... When everything was new and exciting. 

There's something to be said about uncharted territory. 

He knows every inch of my body now. What spots to caress when he wants to arouse me. There are no more surprises. The mystery is gone.

Still, when he's holding me like this, I can't help but wonder how I ever lived without his touch.

And how I will survive when that touch is gone.

He finishes his careful wash over my body, and I can feel him reach behind me to hang the loofa back up. A second later his hand is on my back, pulling me closer to him. 

I rest my head against his chest and guide our bodies so the spray cascades down his back now. Still, my head remains lowered, my eyes remain closed.

He sighs and lifts my chin with his fingers.

"Hi."

I manage a smile that I pray looks genuine and slip my arms through his, clasping my hands behind his back.

"Feel better?"

I close my eyes again and take a deep breath before looking up at him. 

__

How am I going to go on without you, John Carter?

I reach up on my tiptoes, pulling his body closer to mine. He leans in and meets me halfway, pulling back playfully before capturing my lips in a kiss. He pulls away a moment later, much too soon for my unsettled heart, and regards me from above.

"Abby?"

I look away shaking my head. "No."

"No?"

Swallowing, I bring my gaze to meet his stare. "No."

And I know he can see the tears in my eyes. 

***

__

This rift between us… Is it too big to overcome? 

Will we ever find that which we once had? 

Can we ever be new lovers again?

Or, at the very least… Friends?

I'm afraid it's time to decide. 

***

Notes: Some highly overdue accolades to my partner in crime. Six months ago she issued me a challenge in an attempt to get me to see the strength in my writing. I took it, and the rewards were so much greater than I'd ever could have anticipated. Somehow "Thank you" doesn't seem to be quite enough. I owe her big time... For the support, the confidence, the encouragement, the praise and the loyalty I never knew I needed so much. But above all, a connection… a friendship. Something I hope will keep going long after these series have been put to bed. 


	17. Voices

Title: Voices

Disclaimer: Not sure I'd know what to do with them even if they were mine, which is probably why they belong to Warner Brothers, instead. No copyright infringement intended.

Spoilers for "Things Change"

Notes:This is the latest installment in a series of crossover post-eps with KenzieGal's (a/k/a Its_Always_Something) Carter-derived "The Long Way" series, which will continue through the remaining final episodes of Season 9. Look for her newest, "Last Call" (Chapter 12), post-ep to "Things Change", which should be out before too long. As mentioned in prior chapters, while the two post-eps are meant to be read in tandem with a common thread interwoven through the respective pieces, our work remains faithful to Carter's (hers) and Abby's (mine) points of view. Her chapters won't exactly parallel mine and vice versa.

We're heading into the home stretch…

__

Pivotal Moment #5: Our Conversations by the Riverside

If I close my eyes, I can picture it all. I can still see the soft rolls of water as they move down stream with the current. I can still envision the sun shining high in the sky, casting its warmth on the earth below.

The image of you sitting beside me. Locks stirring around on top of your head as the wind had its way with them. The faint smile cast upon your lips as you looked out across the flowing vista.

The way our hands rested on the seat of the bench, mere inches apart.

The urge I got to take yours in mine… or even lay my head on your shoulder.

They way we waxed on about how life forced its unruly happenstance upon us, whether we were prepared for it or not. Whether it be unexpected visits from mothers or conflicts with those we called our significant others, to trying days in the ER…

… To us, and our indeterminable connection to each other. 

I gaze down at the open notebook sitting in front of me, its lined pages glowing in the dim light of the room. The topic - his latest in a stream of thought-provoking prompts – stares back up at me in its singular, simplified statement. To the point, yet invariably complex at the same time.

Just like all the others.

A canvas on which I pour my soul. 

Tonight, unlike the other times, however, I know the words won't come as easily. 

There something about that place… that bench… that familiar skyline. There's something about the memory of that scene that makes me…

I don't know. 

I don't know. I wish I could define it all for you, John… I wish I could explain what was going through my mind back then… Or even what is going through my mind right now. 

I sigh and draw my head upwards, transfixing my eyes on the wall opposite me. A simple distraction is what I had intended when I pulled the journal out from its permanent residence inside my bag. Something to get my mind off where I was, why I was there, and where I really wanted to be.

__

The truth is, there are a hundred thoughts flowing through my head right now. About our past and our present… About our future. 

About you.

I'm not sure I'd be able to sum them all up in the space you've left me on these pages.

Some would say my choice of activity is more detrimental than soothing… But I beg to differ.

I need this.

__

But I will try.

I put my pen down, bringing both hands to my face and rub it in exhaustion. I take a deep breath and manage to push myself away from the desk, securing my feet underneath me, pulling my body upwards into a standing position. I'm fully aware of the movements that play out on my extremities, but I'm no longer certain I'd be able to stop them now. In a final blip of concentration, I reach back behind me and pick the notebook off the desktop, catching the pen with my other hand as it falls. 

My reflexes are quick tonight, though I'm not entirely convinced why. 

I inch around the empty bed and sit down on the edge. Reaching over, I pull the chain on the lamp sitting on the nightstand, illuminating the room with a dull glow. I stare at the light for several moments, unblinking, before I shake my head and glance down at the object in my hands, and then the figure in the next bed.

He's still lying on his stomach, his arms wrapped around the pillow his head rests on. Not even his brute beard can mask the peace that glints across his face right now, and I wonder about the last time he'd slept at all.

It's so unfair. 

__

John, if ever I live to be a very old woman, I will always and forever think of our relationship as my single most greatest achievement. 

Kind of ironic, considering that it had… has the potential to destroy us both.

I must have done something right, to deserve your love. Even if it was only for a little while. 

What was it?

I set the book behind me and pull myself up on to my bed quietly. The caution isn't so much for him… I know he's dead to the world. And yet, I move slowly and deliberately, dragging my feet onto the mattress, drawing my knees up to my chest and crossing my arms over them. I lean forward and close my eyes for a moment, resting my chin atop my wrists. Just sitting. Listening. Waiting. 

How did I get here?

I'm faintly aware of a soft melody wafting through my ears as I lull myself into some semi-conscious state of mind…

__

Looking back on my life, I realize there were very few times when I felt at peace with where I was and who I was with at any particular moment. Maggie. Richard. Luka. The here and now rarely did it for me. I was always looking for something… Else.

Then one day, I met you. I fell in love. And I stopped looking.

John, I can honestly say that there is nowhere else I want to be when I'm with you. 

We were sitting by the river on the afternoon you told me you wanted to be more than just my friend. I denied it - your true intentions - back then. Chalked it up to jealousy. Yours and mine.

I still catch myself today, denying it. Only this time, it's out of fear, more than anything…

I'm pulled out of my self-induced hypnotic trance by the sound of a plane flying directly overhead, and I open my eyes to greet the darkness once more. The music stops, and he stirs beside me, rolling over onto his back before drifting off again. I'm mildly aware of the small smile that plays across my lips as I look over in his direction, and my eyes close once more in a brief prayer of thanks. 

I know this isn't over. I know it's just the beginning. But thank you… Thank you for keeping him safe. 

I look down at the journal lying next to me, the same pages staring back up at me… Taunting me in their own ordinary way. I bite my lip as I drop a hand to the paper, dragging a finger across his handwritten words…

__

I hate thinking about us in the past tense. As if we're already over.

But it's hard for me to be optimistic, when I'm here and you're there. When that connection has faded…

When we're to caught up in our own personal conflicts to give much thought to the one lying next to us…

A single tear slips down my cheek. I know I've failed him. Just like I'd done countless times before. Only tonight I hurt him in a way that cut deeper than any words could ever try.

At least, more than any words I'd ever be able to say to him…

… Or write to him.

I told him I'd make it up to him. I owed him that much. The man who'd dropped everything to be with me. The one who was there. In Oklahoma. In Nebraska. And in all the places in between.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Still, when the day came to reciprocate and rise to the same standards he'd set in the footsteps we'd taken before these…I couldn't do it. 

I've never felt so conflicted. So… wanted… and yet, so utterly useless at the same time.

One voice pulls me here. Another pulls me there. 

Who's more important? My manic brother or my grieving boyfriend?

My inner minions wage a debate about obligation versus loyalty. About birthright versus privilege. About love versus… 

He'd pushed me away before. Told me he didn't need me. Walked out of my life. 

I turned, and he was there. My comfort. My solace. 

I would have given up on this a long time ago, had it not been for him.

He's a big reason I came here. And the only reason I wish I wasn't.

__

What I wouldn't give to be next to you right now, instead of in this hotel room hundreds of miles away, writing to you in this notebook. 

I hope that, by the time you've read this, you'll understand why I had to go tonight, and that, if I could have… I would have been with you. Because it's what I wanted to do.

I don't regret my choice. I hope you can forgive me. 

My reflection stares back at me from my spot in front of the mirror. I run cold water and splash it across my cheeks, hoping to stun out the guilt. I close my eyes and wipe myself dry with the courtesy towel, and I imagine him miles away, going through similar motions for an entirely different reason.

Two tormented souls destined apart by bad timing, yet unmistakably drawn to one another when the dust settles.

Maybe we just weren't ready, for better or for worse. 

I don't know what it's like. To lose a loved one. My mother, my brother… The speculation and close calls don't matter when the real thing comes knocking at your door. 

She was his everything. His grandmother, his mother, his friend, his confidant. His one constant thing. And now she's gone. Left him behind. 

He's grieving the loss of the most important person in his life, and I… I can't. 

Death. I see it every day. 

  
The bad news is, you never get used to it. The good news is… You never get used to it. 

__

In retrospect, those times we spent gazing out across the river were my favorite times with you. My best friend. And I wonder why we don't go there any more.

I realize we don't do a lot of things we used to. Before we became a "we." But I miss those conversations the most. 

I suppose these entries are a continuation of those moments we've shared, giving us both a chance to muse the true meaning behind our commitment to each other and help us see that even though they may have passed, they are more than just simple memories.

They make up our history. 

My fingers drum the window pane as I gaze over the airport terminal, looking for signs of life.

I find myself counting the number of rings before the phone picks up.

"Hi, you've reached John Carter. I can't take your call right now, but if you leave me a message and a number where I can reach you, I'll get back to you. Thanks."

"Hey, um… It's me again." I purse my lips together, suddenly at a loss for what comes next. Damn it, Abby, just get to the point. "I know you're probably sleeping right now… Or not, but um… I wanted to apologize…"

I shake my head and silently curse myself for my awkwardness. "What I mean to say was…" I sigh. "I'm sorry. God, I can't even begin to think about how hard this must be on you. I really do… I really do wish I were there. And if I could do it all over, I would…"

I close my eyes and blink away the tears. 

"I'll be on the first flight back in the morning." I pause. "Call me if you need anything." 

"Bye."

I hang up the phone and put it on the desk behind me. My eyes wander over to my sleeping brother and travel over my unused bed before finally landing on the open book that lies right where I left it. I take a deep breath and gaze out the window again.

These voices will keep me up tonight. 

__

As I flip through the pages of this notebook and read the carefully selected snapshots that you have asked me to think about… I can't help but wonder how you did it. How you managed to landmark the first steps of our relationship using these pivotal moments, doing so with such remarkable insight on the journey ahead of us.

If you're privy to the future, John, promise me you won't let me know what comes next. 

Just take me there. 

Please. 

***


	18. Off Limits

Title: Off Limits

Disclaimer: Not sure I'd know what to do with them even if they were mine, which is probably why they belong to Warner Brothers instead. No copyright infringement intended.

Spoilers for "Foreign Affairs"

Notes: This is the latest installment in a series of crossover post-eps with KenzieGal's (a/k/a Its_Always_Something) Carter-derived "The Long Way" series, which will continue through the remaining final episodes of Season 9. Look for her newest, "Heir Apparent" (Chapter 13), post-ep to "Foreign Affairs", which is being crafted as we speak. As mentioned in prior chapters, while the two post-eps are meant to be read in tandem, _blah blah blah _(::wink::) ... our work remains faithful to Carter's (hers) and Abby's (mine) points of view. Her chapters won't exactly parallel mine and vice versa.

Ever make a list of all the things you never thought you'd miss until you'd lost them… even just for a minute? 

Comfort. Protection. Completeness. Gone. 

Dreams. Promises. Resolutions. Broken.

All of it. Shattered.

We've lost control. Of our emotions, of our actions. 

Of our lives. Of each other. 

And I don't know if any of this can be fixed. The dye has been cast, the damage has been done. 

I don't know where I am. 

I don't know what to do. 

I only know one thing. 

I want out. 

"Abby." 

I blink away the last of my tears and pull my eyes away from the posters outlining the latest treatments for depression. They'd provided for a well-do cover as I waited here in Psych for news about Eric. Not like I could tell a passerby what they were about. But, no matter. I was done with them.

I glance up at Dr. Meyers. 

"He's ready." 

I can see him down the hallway and through the window, slumped in a chair at the end of a long table. I inhale a shaky breath, nod at Dr. Meyers, steal myself and slowly continue towards him.

My brother.

My blood. 

My inevitable fate.

No. I won't let it.

He looks up briefly as I open the door to the room, raising his eyebrows at my entrance before lowering his head again, choosing instead to concentrate on the wood-grain pattern of the table top. I shake my head and sit down beside him, folding my hands in front of me. I watch him ignore me for several seconds before I too cast my eyes downwards. Several more seconds pass before I open my mouth to speak.

He's there before my words even find their way to the surface. 

"So when do I make bail?"

I lift my head and angle it to look at him. "Is that it? Is that all you want to know?"

He frowns, then scoffs, stretching his arms over his head and clasping his hands behind his neck. He looks back at me and shrugs. "I'm hungry."

I stare at him for a moment, my mouth open in disbelief. I close my eyes and look away. Taking a deep breath, I push myself away from the table and stand up, turning towards the window that looks out into the hallway. I can feel his eyes burning into the back of my head.

I can't do this anymore.

The words escape my mouth even before I have a chance to stop them.

"I'm done."

The room is silent for a few seconds. Then he shifts in his chair, and it grinds against the floor with a sound that sends a shooting pain from one temple to the other. 

I'm dangerously close to the edge.

"You're done?"

I sigh in an attempt to calm myself and turn around to face him. He's perked up, leaning forward in his seat, his hands flat on the table. He raises his eyebrows, signaling me to continue.

"I'm done."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means…" I shake my head in defeat and glance up at the ceiling. "It means I'm done. I'm done chasing you. I'm done making up excuses for you. I'm done…"

"… I'm done feeling sorry for you."

Although he looks like he's been slapped in the face, as the words begin to sink in, his features soften. He twists his mouth and ticks his eyes around the room. Clearing his throat, he rubs his chin before gesturing towards me. 

"Is that it?"

I frown and cross my arms over my chest. "What else do you want me to say?"

His gaze flickers from my face to the table. "You don't mean it," he adds quietly. 

"I don't?"

He shakes his head. "This is your life, Abby."

"I didn't ask for this," I state firmly.

"Neither did I!" He rises from his seat sharply, sending it toppling over. 

I wince at his outburst and glance through the window. I take another deep breath and set my jaw before looking at him again.

"What do you want me to do?"

Eric stares at me for several seconds, sighs and runs a hand through his hair before making a move for the door. "I'm hungry."

As he passes by me, I catch his arm and pull him to a halt. He avoids my stare. 

"Eric, answer me. What the hell do you want from me?" 

He fixates his gaze on the floor before twisting out of my grasp, opening the door. 

"Take me home."

And I stand there for a moment, because I can't bring myself to follow.

But I will. 

"Okay."

I always do. 

*** 

The ride home had been less than comfortable. We sat there in silence as the train lurched along, the company my brother doing nothing to still the myriad of thoughts that were hell-bent on playing their usual dance with my emotions. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep our last confrontation from playing on repeat in my mind. 

__

"You know I came in to find you, right? I shouldn't have, I shouldn't have come."

"It's okay, things are gonna get better."  


"Can you do me a favor? Can you leave me alone?"

"What?"

"I need some time. Can you just go?"

"Okay."

I part of me was trying to convince myself that it was just his grief talking. Grief over his loss. Grief compounded with guilt at not being able to give his grandmother the touching send off that she deserved. Guilt compounded with frustration, having watched his good intentions come crashing down before his very eyes whilst not being able to prevent any of it. 

Another part of me basked in the realization that everything that could have gone wrong, had. That I'd been right, once again. I'd disappointed him. I'd really done it this time. Lost him for good. Way to go, Abby. Way to live up to the low standards the world has set for you. 

There's no way he'll ever want to be a part of your life now, not after you've ruined the one thing he had left to get him through this, the most trying time of his life. 

All he wanted to do was to say goodbye in his own way.

He didn't. 

"How's John?" 

I glance towards the kitchen from where I stood, arms crossed, motionless in the middle of the living room. "What?" 

Eric pokes his head out from behind the fridge door. "How's John? Did you get to see him?" 

"Oh, um…" I shake my head as I struggle to put together a coherent sentence. "Yeah. I saw him. He's uh… He's fine."

He's at the counter now, preparing himself a sandwich. "Yeah? 'Cuz, you know, I'm really sorry about what happened. I had no idea I would lose control like that." 

I chew my lip and tap my fingers against my arm. "Uh-huh." 

"Guess he'll never want to go drinking with me now, huh?"

I frown and glance towards the kitchen. "Excuse me?"

"I was going to ask him if he wanted to, you know… Go out and kick a few back one night. Maybe next week." 

I roll my eyes in exasperation. "Uh… I think it'd be better if you kept your distance for awhile." 

"You think?" He stops in the doorway, plate in one hand, glass of milk in the other. "I mean, of course." He pushes past me and plops down on the sofa. "You did apologize for me, right?" 

I turn around and gape incredulously at my brother. What nerve he has… I sigh in defeat and shake my head, throwing my arms up the air. 

"I'm going to bed." I turn towards the bedroom.

"You're not going to eat?" He asks. 

I twist around and look back at my brother. "No."

I wait for another quip, a response… anything from Eric. But he's stopped listening and I sulk off, retreating to my bedroom, closing the door. My sanctuary. At least, for now. We share a bathroom, and it's only a matter of time before my privacy is interrupted once more.

My privacy. Right. I've never felt so obvious. 

In the bathroom, I change into my pajamas and wash my face slowly and carefully, my eyes transfixed on my reflection in the mirror. It's a dull contrast from the image that once greeted me, months past, and a twinge in my heart reminds me that those times of bliss and easy-living have been washed away with the changing seasons. I empty the sink and turn off the light to the bathroom heading back into the bedroom. My heart and soul long to call it a day, but something in my mind compels me to drag it out even longer. I pull back the comforter with one hand and pick up the phone with the other. Propping a pillow against the headboard I lean back and set the unit in my lap, staring at it. Several minutes pass before I finally convince myself to pick up the receiver, and it takes a few moments more before I can bring myself to dial. I close my eyes and listen for the rings, a silent mantra being spoken by my inner voice. 

You need to do this Abby. If not for him, then… For yourself. 

You're done. 

You've made the decision, now follow through with the actions. Prepare yourself for the consequences, whatever they may be. 

Just do it. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mom… It's me."

"Abby…" The relief in her voice is evident.

"Yeah."

There's a pause between the lines, and then "What's wrong? Is it Eric?" 

I sigh, suddenly at a loss for what to say. How do you tell your mother that you give up? That she's ruined your life? That you just want to make it all go away?

"Eric's fine."

You lie.

"I was just calling… To ask you for a favor."

I can practically hear her smile on the other end of the phone. "Okay. Of course. You can ask me anything." 

I bite my lips as I pick at the pattern of the comforter. "I, uh… I was wondering if you could maybe… Check out some programs in your area?" 

"For Eric." 

"Yes."

"Abby. What's wrong?"

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "He's fine, Mom. Except he's… you know."

"Is he taking his meds?"

I open my eyes and tick my head from side to side. "Not really."

"What does that mean, Abby? Is he taking them or not?"

"He's not. At least, not faithfully."

I sigh again and rub my left temple with my fingertips.

"He thinks he can control it. He thinks he knows. But he really doesn't."

"Abby, you have to let him come to this on his own…"

I sit up abruptly. "No!" I shout, startling myself. Instantly, I look towards the bedroom door, waiting for his footsteps. I sink back into the pillows.

"I know this is hard, Abby. It's hard on everyone. But you of all people should understand…"

I shake my head. "Stop, Maggie. Just stop. Don't tell me what I should and should not understand."

There's more silence on the other end. "I'm sorry."

I nod and close my eyes, taking a few breaths to calm my nerves. "So do you think you could check out some programs?"

"Does he want to come here?" 

I pause. "Probably not. But he's going. I just…" I trail off. 

"You just what?"

I close my eyes and tilt my head towards the ceiling, trying to fight back the tears that threaten to fall.

I just want my life back.

"Abby?"

"I just can't do this. Not anymore." 

"Abby… What happened?"

I sigh. "You know what happened, okay? He came back, and now everything is a mess." 

"You don't mean that, Abby."

"Yes. I do." I take a deep breath and swipe my hand across my cheek. It's almost surreal, this idea of crying to my mother over the phone. "I just want to fix it, and I don't know if I can fix it, as long as … As long as you two keep… showing up."

Maggie sighs on the other end of the line. "You need to be more patient."

"I've been patient! I've been patient for thirty years, Mom. But the truth is, the minute one of you walks through the door, nothing else matters anymore. Not my job, not my sobriety…"

"… Not John?" She adds, a hint of knowing laced through her echoes of sympathy. 

A bitter laugh rings through my tears. "Yeah."

"Abby… Maybe you two need some time –"

"So you'll check out some programs, right?"

A pause. "Yes." 

I sit up as I hear movement coming from the other room. "Thank you. I'll, um… I'll call you back in a couple of days. Okay?"

"Abby, I want you to think about this… He needs you right now."

I shrug. "Other people need me too."

"He's your brother."

"I know."

"I'm just saying…"

"Sleep well, Mom."

Another sigh. "Goodnight, Abby."

I hang up first, put the phone back on the nightstand and use both hands to wipe away the lingering tears that insist on blurring my vision. Reaching over to turn off the lamp on the night stand, I notice my notebook sitting beside it and frown. I don't remember leaving it there. The last time I'd looked at it had been four nights ago, in a motel room in Des Moines. It had been resting in my bag since then, until…

… Last night, when I'd pulled it out in a moment of nostalgia. I'd called John before then, confirming my presence at the cemetery the next morning. At a loss for what to say, I blurted out the first thought to pop into my head, only to kick myself instantly for once again using the wrong words to convey my true feelings. Why was it that I could express myself so much better on paper than I could through voice? I'd pulled out my journal and began to read my responses to John's prompts in an attempt to gather some inspiration for the next, most difficult day. 

I pluck the notebook from its spot on the table and open it, pulling the pen from between the pages of the last entry, and flip to the next one. It takes me a second for my brain to register the phrase that announces the topic of the next pivotal moment he has set before me. 

If it weren't so incredibly sad, I'd almost say it was ironic. 

_ ****_

Pivotal Moment # 6: "Crashing' my Grandfather's funeral

I blink twice as the emotion swells in my chest once again. I'd remarked about the uncanny parallels between these prompts and our current life crises before, but this latest coincidence was almost spooky. 

How to compare that day to the one just experienced, in all its maddening glory? What thoughts meandered through my head back then? Had I carried them with me today? What kind of comfort will I walk away with this time? How can I convey my sympathy and utter regret over today's events? How will I be able to make it up to him in verse, so that he may read it and know exactly what I want him to know about how I feel? 

I sink into the pillows and poise my pen, ready for the answers to those questions…

__

April 28th, 2003

I remember your face when you told me he was gone. 

Your quiet reassurance that you were okay. The way you rolled your eyes and told me that you'd never want to subject me to the trials of any Carter family gathering. 

I remember thinking about how you'd react when I showed up anyway. 

My instincts were justified when you turned around and saw me standing there. 

Grateful comfort. 

Still, I was nervous. We hadn't spoken much since the afternoon you told me you were tired of standing along the sidelines, waiting for me to make my choice. 

Our relationship was in limbo. 

  
It was a beautiful afternoon, and as you talked about your grandfather and how he loved riding the lawn mower around the grounds, I felt a sense of tranquility envelope both of us, answering our questions and soothing our fears. 

Perhaps my presence that afternoon had brought about a new level of commitment and understanding between us. 

Or, perhaps you shared your peace with me.

I admit, I came to see you that afternoon for two reasons. At first thought, I might have done it for myself, because I felt bad that something so big could happen in your life and we wouldn't have a chance to talk about it. I did it because I wanted to be a good friend to you.

But, ultimately, I came for you. Because I knew that, even though you said you didn't need me there… A small part of you wanted someone to lean on. 

I came for the same reason you came to Oklahoma with me. Because I cared about you. 

I still care, John. I still came for the same reasons.

Today didn't go as I had intended, John. If anything, I want you to know that. Because the last thing I wanted to do to you was hurt you again. 

You've suffered loss to last a lifetime. And… not just family. 

Lucy. Mark. 

It's never fair. It's never fair when it's a life cut short. When it's a brother, or a student or a friend. It's never fair when it's a grandfather. Or a grandmother.

She meant a lot to you. 

They all did. But this… This is the most difficult. I know. 

Two years ago, you told me you didn't need me. Still, I came. 

This time, you said you needed me. I came. Later, you told me to leave. 

I left. 

You don't need me. Not like this. You don't deserve to have me there only half the time. You don't deserve to come second in my life. 

Not when I've come first in yours, time and time again.

I don't blame you for asking me to leave. I blame myself for leaving. 

So I've made a decision. A decision about you and I, and our future. 

And it's the hardest decision I've ever had to make. 

I could really use your opinion on this one… But I have a feeling I already know what it is. 

Maybe it'll work. Maybe it won't. But I'll never forgive myself if I let you slip away without doing everything in my power to hold on to you.

It's time. It's time to show you. It's time to tell you what I want

It's time to regain control of my life and fight for a future with you.

*** 

The sound of the television blaring in the next room jolts me out of a fitful slumber, and I roll over and glance at the clock. 

1:37 a.m.

Music begins to play as I reach over and turn on the bedside lamp, blinking several times against the light. My notebook, which I'd fallen asleep holding, sits half-lodged under my hip, and I move to extract it, placing it on the opposite nightstand. I frown at the sounds coming from the next room, smooth my hands over the creases in Carter's pillow, and drag my exhausted body out of bed and to the door. 

From my spot in the doorway, I spy Eric sitting up on the sofa, staring blankly at the television station playing late-night music videos. Blankets and pillows are strewn about the floor, and the remnants of his earlier meal sit forgotten on the coffee table. 

I clear my throat as I enter the room. 

"Hey."

"Hey… I thought you were asleep." 

I lean against the back of the armchair and look at the television. I glance over at him. "I thought _you_ were asleep."

He rolls his eyes as he begins to flip through the channels. "These things keep me awake at night."

I raise my eyebrows and glance around the room. "These things?"

"Yeah. These things… Whatever you give me."

"Your meds?"

His gaze remains transfixed on the flickering screen in front of him. "Yeah."

"Depecote." 

"Whatever."

I watch him for a moment before pushing away from my spot. I look over my shoulder towards the bed, and then back at my brother. I sigh and round the chair, lowering myself into it. 

"We could try you on something else…" 

"Don't bother."

"Eric."

"When are you kicking me out?"

I frown. "What?"

He tears his eyes away from the television and glowers at me. "When are you sending me away?" 

I shake my head and look away. "I'm not…" 

"I heard you."

I shift my gaze back towards him. "On the phone?"

He responds by rolling his eyes and turns his attention back to the TV. 

"It's not like that, Eric…"

"No, no. You don't need to explain. I understand. I screwed up." He stares straight ahead, that look of permanent defeat chiseling its way deep into his features. 

I take a deep breath and pull myself from my seated position, moving towards the couch. I tuck a leg underneath me as I sit again. 

"Look, I'm not going to say it wasn't your fault."

He laughs bitterly. "Thanks. I feel a lot better."

"Listen to me."

He shuts up, glancing over at me briefly.

"I'm not going to tell you it's not your fault, but I'm not going to let you take all the blame, either. Eric, you got a really raw deal. It sucks. But you know what? You can beat this. You don't have to give in."

I pause for a moment, attempting to gauge his reaction. Nothing. I take a deep breath and soldier on.

"I did a big thing very badly yesterday." I laugh slightly and look up at the ceiling. "Actually, today was just the latest in a string of big things." I lower my gaze. "Did you know he was going to propose to me?" 

Eric's eyebrows flinch. "Yesterday?" He chirps with amusement.

I roll my eyes. "No. Two months ago." 

"And he didn't."

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Because… " I stop and frown. I look down at my hands. "I don't know. I guess he wasn't ready."

He nods quietly. "Too bad."

"Yeah." I watch him for a moment, waiting for him to say something else. He tips his head and begins to flip through the channels again. I bite my lip and shrug, picking myself up off the couch and turning toward the bedroom.

I'm almost in the doorway when his speaks up.

"Why did you think I was dead?"

I turn, to see him looking at me expectantly. "You really didn't give me a reason to think otherwise, did you?" 

He considers this. "I guess not." 

A small smile creeps across my lips. "I'm your big sister. I worry."

"Yeah." He pauses, then adds an afterthought. "I'm sorry." 

I blink once slowly, nodding. "I know." 

"Night, Abby." 

"Goodnight, Eric."

***

**__**


	19. No Room For Goodbye

Title: No Room For Goodbye

Disclaimer: I don't own Carter, Abby, or the premise to ER. Those belong to the great Powers That Be and the kind folks over at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended.

Spoilers for "When Night Meets Day"

AN: Why don't we skip the usual babble and talk about what's really important here? I'll be frank. This wasn't an easy chapter to write for many reasons, not the least of which is that I think I'm losing my zeal for this series. I'm running out of steam quickly, and pushing these chapters out in less than a week became an impossibility this time around. Not just for me, but for my ever-so-loyal and uber-talented colleague, Kenzie_Gal. So we beseech you. Please forgive our lateness, and bear with us for a little longer. We really do appreciate your patience and unwavering support through this, and all the installments that preceded this one. 

This chapter flows in conjunction with Kenzie_Gal's ('The Long Way') Chapter 14, entitled "Late For the Sky," which should be out before too long. Read them both and enjoy. 

We're down to the dying seconds of the season here. But cheer up! The summer brings new endeavors! Stay tuned! 

Oh, and if it isn't obvious to you by now, here at chapter 19, I have a really unhealthy obsession with this show. 

I know I'm running out of time. Still, I keep going.

I couldn't live with myself if I knew he was waiting for me, and I never came. 

It's wishful thinking. But sometimes you have to believe in these things.

Sometimes, a long shot is the only shot you've got.

I curse under my breath as my foot catches on the uneven sidewalk, nearly sending me head over heels onto the pavement. My pace isn't broken, however, and I huff loudly, pushing my bag further up on my shoulder. I glance briefly at the duffel I carry in my right hand, then up the path towards my destination, squinting in the early morning sunlight. 

Did the walk always seem this long? 

It had been my immediate desire to make this trip as soon as my night shift had ended. The seconds couldn't have ticked past fast enough for me, as I watched the clock on the wall slowly creep up on eight a.m. It was to be a welcome release from a shift outta hell, as well as the chance for me to seek him out and attempt to continue our conversation from the night before. 

__

Nothing's right here. 

I shift the duffel to my left hand as I pause for a moment outside the front entrance to open my purse and search for my keys to his building.

I knew he would refuse me, brush me aside, just like he'd done in the ambulance bay last night, just like he'd been doing for the past week. Ever since the night he asked me to leave him in that dark suture room. 

__

I need some time. 

Before I can spot my keys hiding in the mess of my purse, the front door opens, forcing me to step aside. I look up and discover an older couple stepping outside, and I reach out by reflex, catching the door and holding it open for them. They smile at me warmly and I issue a mumbled 'Good morning' towards them before quickly slipping inside. 

I make my way up the stairs two at a time, surprised at the bounty of energy I seem to carry after working all night. Past mornings, I've come home and simply crashed, content to shut out the world if it meant a few hours respite from my misery. But today is different. Today, I'm on a mission. Adrenaline is working for me, moving me up these stairs. The thought of finding him there motivates me to keep going. 

Sleep will have to wait. I have a much more pressing item on my agenda.

I needed to hear him say it. 

I stop just outside his apartment door. Raising a hand to knock, I hesitate for a moment before rapping my knuckles on the surface in front of me and step back, waiting for the action that I hope will come next. Several seconds pass, and I frown and glance down at my feet before I knock again. I lean in towards the door, straining to hear for movement coming from within the apartment, reach out and try the knob. It doesn't budge. I close my eyes and hang my head, resigning to my worst case scenario. 

I'm too late.

In a last ditch idea, I open my purse and resume my search for keys. I come upon them easily this time, and quickly insert them into the lock. I push the door open and step into the apartment, looking around for any sign of his presence. The drapes on the opposite windows are partly closed, casting a heavy shadow over half the living room. I take a few more tentative steps inside.

"John?" 

No answer.

A spark of hope flickers in my chest as I make my way towards the only lit room in the apartment – his bedroom.

Maybe he's still sleeping. 

It's empty. I lean on the doorframe and gaze around sadly before turning off the light.

The tears find their way to the surface as I leave the apartment, closing the door softly behind me. I'll blindly wipe them away for now, resisting this intense urge to cry. 

Like sleep, this too will have to wait. 

__

It's not Rio, but it's not here.

I know I should, but I'm not ready to give up, yet.

I don't realize that my purse is ringing until I'm standing outside again. Hopefully, the sun will stun some sense into me. I shift the duffel from one hand to the other once more and fumble with my shoulder bag, looking inside as I descend the steps outside his building. The incessant noise continues, and I roll my eyes as they fall upon my cell phone. I pull it out and open it, crossing my arms over my chest. 

"Hello?"

"Hey!"

I frown. "Susan?" 

"Don't tell me you were sleeping." 

I glance up and down the street. "What do you want?"

"Well, good morning to you too, sunshine." 

I shake my head. "Sorry. It's just…"

"… He's leaving."

I sigh. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Abby." 

I nod to no one. "Yeah." 

"That would explain your mood last night."

I roll my eyes in exasperation, my patience wearing thinner by the minute. "Well, how would you feel?" 

There's a pause. I can hear her take a deep breath on the other end of the line. "Abby?"

"What?"

"Are you on your way to the airport?"

I throw my arm up in the air, letting it hover before dropping back to my side. "No. I'm standing outside his apartment. He's not –"

"Abby!"

"What?!"

"Are _you_ on your _way_ to the _airport_?" She repeats, making sure I catch the emphasis on 'you', 'way' and 'airport'.

I open my mouth to continue my response but shut it again as the puzzle pieces fall into position. I'm frozen in place as it all begins to make sense.

I've been saying all the wrong things. I've been looking in all the wrong places. 

I've been thinking I'm too late. 

"Abby?" Her voice pulls me back to the present.

I shake my head and begin to walk down the sidewalk towards the El. "Midway?"

"O'Hare." 

I stop in my tracks and look out into the street. "He called you?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Just now. He's on the ten-thirty American Airlines flight to London."

"Ten Thirty?" I look at my watch and my heart falls. "It's almost nine…"

"You_ just _missed him, Abby. It's not too late." 

I close my eyes for a moment and inhale a deep breath in some attempt to slow down my racing heart. 

"Abby?"

I open my eyes and glance up the street again, just in time to notice a taxi approaching a half-block away.

Susan's voice rings through my head again. "Abby?"

I step off the curb. "Yeah, I'm here." I juggle the phone and the duffel bag in one hand and stick my arm out to signal the driver.

"Did you get that?" 

The cab pulls up in front of me, and I open the door and get in. "Yeah, I got it. Thanks."

"So, what are you going to say to him?"

I declare my destination to the cabbie and settle back in the seat, biting my lower lip. "I don't know, Susan. I really don't." I sigh. "I just… I have to see him." 

"Well… Okay." She pauses for a second. I can tell she's trying to muster up support. "Good luck, Abby." 

"Thanks." 

"Call me later."

"I will." I pull the phone away from my ear and hang up. I glance out the side window and then over to the duffel bag sitting beside me. 

It's not too late. 

There's still room for goodbye. 

***

__

"This is the final boarding call for all passengers on Delta Airlines flight 1131 to Atlanta, Georgia departing from gate G3."

I blink a few times and shake my head, rotate on my heel and push my way through the crowd of anxious travelers as they continue to congregate in front of the bank of screens dedicated to flight departures.

11:05.

Delayed. 

There's still time. 

I check my watch as I head towards the security checkpoint located just before the gates. The place was surprisingly active for 9:45 on a Friday morning. All around me, people are milling about, carrying bags and wheeling suitcases. Small clumps of colleagues brush past me in a rush as I stand in the way of their intended destination. Another announcement comes over the loudspeaker, asking a delinquent passenger to please return to his gate. I turn around and look further into the terminal, past the metal detectors and security personnel who were working hard to screen every passenger thoroughly and quickly, and try and make out what's going on over on the other side. I crane my neck and bob it around, searching for a particular figure amidst the crowd.

"Excuse me, m'am?" 

I whip around towards the sound of the voice, coming face to face with one of the airport officials. 

"Are you waiting in line?"

I look over my shoulder towards the row of passengers filed in front of me. "Umm…"

"Do you have a ticket?"

"Uh, no." I smile weakly. "No I don't."

"Then I'm sorry, but you're going to have to move. Only passengers with boarding passes are permitted in the screening area." 

I nod, my cheeks becoming warm with embarrassment. "I'm sorry." I hang my head and cross quickly over to the other wall, out of the way of the activity. Closing my eyes and leaning against it, I heave a heavy sigh.

What am I doing here? 

I bite my lip and steal another peek as another group of hurried passengers pass in front of me, and I look towards the direction from which they came.

It's impossible. He's probably already at the gate. 

Face it. I'm too late. 

It's not going to happen. 

I should give up now.

But… I can't. 

I know I won't move until 11:05. 

I made a decision, and I have to follow through with it.

Screw bad timing. 

The minutes pass as I lie in wait for whatever is about to come next. I watch a father give away parting hugs and kisses to his family. I watch as a young couple embrace, bowing their heads together, whispering their goodbyes before separating slowly. 

It's almost agonizing to watch, because I can remember a time, not so long ago, when I knew what it felt like. 

__

"I took a split shift so I could see you off."

  
"My flight's not for hours."  


"I know."

This time, I'm not so sure I can relate. 

I've never liked airports.

I'm still caught up in the bittersweet memory when I spot him out of the corner of my eye, and nearly do a double take. 

It's him.

My needle in a haystack. 

I push back my immediate instinct to run up to him and wrap my arms around him. As much as I want to be close to him right now, there's something I want… Need to do first. 

He looks exhausted, sad, scared and more. Heartbroken. Lost.

Hello, John.

Don't go. 

Go, if you have to.

Stay safe. 

I'll miss you. 

I love you.

Goodbye, John.

Is there time to say it all?

Will he hear any of it? 

I'm about to find out. 

I push myself away from the wall and walk towards him, smiling nervously as the distance closes between us. "Hey."

My expression falls when his pace remains steady. I try again. 

"John?"

I watch as he passes me a few feet away, his attention obviously focused on the checkpoint ahead of him. I glance upwards for a moment and take a deep breath, turning around.

Third time's a charm. 

"Carter!"

He stops in mid-stride, pausing momentarily before turning around slowly. I sigh with relief, straighten my back and wait for his reaction. His face transitions from resolved determination to annoyance, then confusion and finally… Surprise? 

He shakes his head and blinks rapidly several times. "Abby?"

I laugh a little and roll my eyes, taking a few steps towards him. "Forget what I look like already?" I chide with a smirk. 

He frowns, meeting me halfway. "What are you doing here?" 

My smile fades. I glance around the crowded terminal and back up at him.   


"Isn't it obvious?"

Carter sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Abby…" He throws me a pleading look.

"I actually went to your apartment, you know. I wanted to give you this." I hold out the duffel bag between us. "It's, um… It's got t-shirts and socks and stuff. Things you had at my place. I thought you might need them."

He stares at me for a moment before reaching out and taking the bag. "Thanks." He smiles and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest.

We stand in silence for what seems like an eternity, each of us watching the other, waiting for the next move. Another flight announcement blares through the terminal, and Carter glances over his shoulder towards the security checkpoint. 

"I should, uh…" 

"It's been delayed a half-hour." I spit out hastily, desperate for a few more minutes with him. 

He turns back towards me. "I know."

"So…" 

He raises his eyebrows. "So?"

I bite my lip. "So, can we talk?"

He pauses for affect a moment longer before responding. "I don't think there's much for us to say."

Ouch. 

"Oh." I swallow slowly as tears begin to well in my eyes. "Well, um… Then, I guess I should just…" I turn around and start to walk in the other direction. One foot in front of the other. Away from him. 

"Wait, Abby!"

Against my better judgement, my heart forces me to a halt. His hand is on my shoulder a moment later. 

"I can't take this." 

I draw in a shaky breath and nod. "Neither can I." I turn around and look up at him. "I get it." 

His expression changes when he sees the look in my eyes and he shakes his head. "No, um… This." He holds up the bag. "It doesn't have a tag. I can't take it on the plane." 

My gaze drops to the duffel. "Oh. Okay." I reach up and take it from him, my hand lingering on top of his for a few sad seconds.

"Did you come to convince me to stay?"

I take a step back and raise my eyes to meet his. "And if I did? Would it have mattered?"

"Abby…" 

"That's what I thought. You've made up your mind, Carter, and there's not much I can do now. I get it. So go. Run away." 

His expression hardens. "I'm not running away."

"Really? Because it sure looks like you are."

"Well, if that's what it looks like to you… Maybe I'm taking a chapter from the Book of Abby." 

I feel my eyes grow wide. "Oh that's rich, Carter." I laugh bitterly. "Real rich."

He looks at me in disbelief, his head swaying from side to side slowly. 

I roll my eyes towards the ceiling and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. I set my jaw and lower my gaze, half expecting to see him walking away. 

He hasn't, yet.

"I came looking for you this morning. When I went to your apartment and found out you'd left, I thought I'd lost my chance. But something compelled me to keep trying." I shake my head. "I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to have the last word. Maybe I wanted to apologize. Maybe I just wanted to say good luck. But right now… All I want to do is walk away."

"So why haven't you?" 

"Truthfully?" I tip my head. "I don't know."

He purses his lips together, nodding silently. 

I glance at the carryon slung over his shoulder. "Why haven't you?" 

He shakes his head sadly and shrugs. "I guess we're at an impasse."

I close my eyes. "I guess we are." 

"Abby."

I open my eyes. 

He steps closer, hovering just above me and lowers his voice. "I'm not going to lie and tell you that you haven't hurt me. And I'm not going to stand here and say that everything is going to be all right. I can't do that anymore."

I dip my head and nod slowly, feeling the tears stir just below the surface. 

"It's just… I don't want to be here right now." 

I swallow and try to speak around the lump in my throat. "I know." I lean forward on my toes and rest my forehead lightly against his chest, inhaling his scent one last time. 

He sighs and pulls away. 

"Abby look at me." 

I lick my lips and oblige, lifting my gaze to meet his. 

"I have to go." 

I spread my arms wide at my sides, surrendering in defeat. "Then go."

He stares at me for a few moments longer before turning on his heel and walking towards security. My immediate response is to turn and run in the other direction, away from his retreating figure, away from the torture and pain of this moment, away from my life and my love.

But my feet don't move, no matter how hard I will them. 

I gasp as I watch him stop in the line and glance over his shoulder back in my direction. I cover my mouth to muffle a sob as the floodgates slowly begin to open. Managing to turn around, I try to concentrate on the corridor ahead of me, gradually making my way towards it. It isn't long before I'm in full weep, and I struggle to keep my focus and my eyes dry. It's an impossible task.

How will I survive without him? 

The only thing I can hear is the sound of my sobs as they come one after another, and I resist the urge to crumple to the floor in a grieving mess.

I was too late. 

I'm almost at the escalators when I feel someone pulling on my shoulder, calling my name. I move sharply away from the grasp and continue ahead. The next thrust comes more forcefully, spinning me around. I look up at him and begin to open my mouth, but my protests are silenced with a finger to my lips. He shakes his head and takes my tear-streaked face in his hands, kissing me softly. The sensation of his lips on mine is enough to make my already fragile state shatter, and it takes every ounce of energy I have left to keep my knees from giving way. I close my eyes and bring my arms up around his shoulders, dropping the bag behind him. My hands find their way to the back of his head and I inch up on my toes, drawing us further into the kiss. His thumbs massage gentle circles on my cheeks, his touch mingling with my tears. I whimper when he pulls back a moment later, his hands moving down to my shoulders. He leans forward once more, resting his lips against my forehead.

"Wait for me." 

And then he's gone. 

***

The realization comes in the middle of the night.

It comes as I lie here, shattered and grieving.

I've never been so inconsolable. 

It comes as the television flickers mutely in front of me, its dull picture the only source of light in this darkened, shadow-ridden apartment. The candles I lit hours ago have almost squandered themselves out. 

A newspaper lies on the floor, the front page picture showing a diner on fire as patients and other medical personnel look on. 

A sanctuary from the chaos of everyday life. No longer.

A common ground on which we gather to gripe, celebrate and reminisce. No longer. 

Our place, no longer.

No more riverside conversations, no more hot fudge sundaes. No more coffee dates on the rooftop of County General. 

All good things must come to an end. Right? 

What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger. Really?

Have we lost the good fight? 

Maybe.

Will we lose the battle? 

I don't know. 

My notebook sits open. I reach down and graze my fingers across the familiar handwriting and bite my lip, before brushing away the few remaining tears that stream down my face. 

I don't think I can cry anymore. 

I barely recognize the words that stare back up at me, despite the fact that they flowed from my mind mere moments ago. 

A tribute. To a moment shared. To words spoken. To feelings, hidden and exposed. 

What makes who we are now different from what we were back then? 

Time. Insight. Acceptance. 

The realization comes as I my eyelids begin to droop and the pull of slumber lures me forward. 

It shouldn't have happened. Not at all. 

Not like this.

I lost him today, but he'd left long before he boarded that plane. 

__

… it's not here.

And I never did say goodbye. 

***

**__**

Pivotal Moment #7: Sitting on the loading dock outside the Lava Lounge

I'll always remember it as the night everything fell apart, then came together. The night I knew you were in this for the long haul. The night I realized I couldn't overcome my addiction on my own. The night I knew I would never win. The night I admitted to myself that I didn't want to win if I couldn't do it holding your hand.

The night we lost a friend, but found each other. Again.

A lot happened between the day I showed up at your Grandfather's funeral, and the day Mark died. And I wonder for a minute why you didn't include any of those moments here in this journal. 

Like the night we strolled along the river and I admitted that I wanted more from us.

The day I tried to protect you when Sobricki turned up in the ER, and again that night, when I turned a blind eye and threw six years of sobriety out the window. 

The night Brian attacked me.

The day you realized I was drinking again. 

But slowly it dawns that you have, in some way, managed to capture all these moments in a single snapshot. On the outside, it's just a single instant frozen in time. But if you look closely, then the image truly begins to take shape. 

I needed you even before the night I watched from my perch as you circled the block looking for a parking spot, counting the minutes until I felt your presence behind me.

I still need you… I still want more. I want to protect you and be protected by you. 

I still want to win, John. But only when I'm with you. 

. . . . .

Half the time, I still expect him to come walking right around the corner. Sometimes I catch myself, his name on the tip of my tongue. Sure, it's getting easier, but it's never going to completely fade. His impression. It fills that place. It surrounds us all. 

He was a good man. A good husband… Father. A good doctor. A good mentor and teacher. 

A good friend. 

I see a lot of him in you, John. 

. . . . . 

We comforted each other that night, and in a way I think Mark's death brought us closer together. If anything, it helped us realize that life is not as fragile as we think. We tread lightly, because we're afraid of the fallout of our actions. We don't want to hurt each other, so we dance around the real issues, refusing to broach what's really on our minds. 

That changed, just a little, as we sat in Doc MacGoo's, waiting for the sun to rise. 

It's getting harder to stay sober these days, John. 

Especially after last night. Especially after today.

When I saw Doc's in flames, I something came over me. I stopped in my tracks and watched for a moment. Awestruck. Saddened. Confused. 

Then I turned around and saw you. And my immediate reaction was to run to you. To pull you close and make sure you were okay. 

I never really took a moment to think about the significance of this event on our lives. 

It was a part of our history, and now it's gone.

It was where our partnership began. And perhaps, last night, while it burned in the background, we turned another corner.

Things won't be the same, now.

It had to happen sometime, and yet, I can't keep myself from grieving for the way we were.

I know you're grieving for us, too. 

I could see it in your eyes as you walked away. 

I saw it again this morning, when you kissed me. 

Kiss me again, John. Tell me it isn't over. 

Or just come back to me. Safely.

I'll be waiting. 

***


	20. Night Sessions

Title: Night Sessions

Disclaimer: I don't own Carter, Abby, or the premise to ER. Those belong to the great Powers That Be and the kind folks over at Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is ever intended.

Spoilers for "Kisangani". Final crossover installment with KenzieGal's "The Long Way" series. Read her latest chapter (15), "Leave a Light on For Me". Adore it. You've been told. 

This is it folks, so let's skip the formalities and jump right in… Please read the author's notes, which will be posted after this chapter. 

.

.

.

Here I am again. 

If there's one guarantee about these things, it's that it doesn't matter where you are, there's always one nearby. Open every minute, night and day. 

There's something to be said about continuity. 

An instant refuge for a ravaged soul. My own personal harem, of sorts. 

Where everybody knows your name. 

Certainly beats the alternative, or so I'm trying to convince myself. 

It's all so familiar… The lighting, the noises, the smell. Even the people look as if I've gathered with them dozens of times before tonight. One wouldn't have guessed that it's been awhile since I've even stepped into one of these places – except I'm pretty sure everyone in this room knows I haven't been around.

Hello, my name is Abby, and I'm new at this. 

Well, not quite. 

.

.

.

***

I can't remember the last time my apartment felt this empty. This quiet. This lonely.

And I don't know why it hits me tonight, of all nights. He hasn't spent a night here in almost two weeks. The sheets have been washed. The towels are clean. The only figments that he once made camp here lie behind closed doors. Four of his t-shirts, folded neatly inside a drawer in the armoire. A suit coat, hanging in the closet, a collared shirt – hanging on its own hanger - peaking out from inside it. His favorite after shave sitting on the second shelf in the medicine cabinet. A pair of shoes in the front closet. 

His toothbrush still rests next to mine. 

Everything else is gone. And I can't quite recall when he came and picked it all up… Because I swear, there used to be more. 

And it feels different. This place. It's suddenly… Foreign. 

I don't recognize it anymore. Still, I live here. It's my home, like it or not. And apparently, I should like it. Or so my neighbors say. I won't find another place in the city quite like it.

I don't want another place. I just want…

I'm going through the motions, now. Wake up, go to work, come home, sleep. Day in and day out.

Well, except for the waking up and the sleeping part. It's getting harder and harder to come by these days.

He keeps me awake. Memories, images of him. The thought of him flying halfway around the world just because he didn't want to be here. With me. 

And I try not to think about the things… The things that might be happening to him. I try to tell myself that my mind is conjuring up these frightening scenarios in an attempt to weaken me. In an attempt to keep me awake. Night after night. 

He'll be back. He'll walk through that door, and he'll wrap his arms around you. He'll forgive you, and you'll forgive him. 

You'll be happy again, one day. 

One day, you'll sleep again. 

Right? 

I wish I could concur. I really do. 

There's something else that has been quietly eluding me lately. 

The strength to keep it together. 

***

.

.

.

"Hi." 

I glance out of the corner of my eye at the young woman standing next to me. I give a small smile and nod my head. 

"Hi." 

"My name's Claire." She grins and - much to my horror - sticks out her hand. 

I set down the cup of coffee I've been so meticulously preparing and reciprocate the gesture, grasping her palm for the briefest of seconds. "Abby." 

"Nice to meet you, Abby. I haven't seen you here before. Is this your first time?"

I pick up the styrofoam incubator and turn around, glancing around the dimly lit hall. "Um, no. Actually..." I laugh a little and shake my head. "I mean, uh… It's my first time at this, um… location. But it's not…" I glance nervously at Claire. 

She nods her understanding. "Well, then, we won't make you share…" She smiles demurely, and I frown, not getting it… 

"At least, not until the second visit," she adds, chuckling at her own joke. I raise my eyebrows, nodding with mock interest. 

.

.

.

***

She corners me in the lounge.

"You off?"

I yank open my locker and shrug out of my scrub top, trying to look as occupied as I can. 

"Looks like it." 

Susan sighs heavily and plops down on the couch. "Lucky you." 

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. "Weren't you here when I came in?" 

"Argh, don't remind me…"

I shake my head and pull out my purse and jacket, depositing both on the table behind me. "It's not fair… " 

"Tell me about - …Wait. What isn't?" 

I chew my lip as I scan the contents of my locker, not really looking for anything. "This… Being short two attendings. Even Romano..." 

"He's on medical leave." 

"I find it hard to believe that the hospital let two senior staff just take off like that." 

"They didn't exactly take off, Abby." 

"Well, maybe Luka didn't…" I roll my eyes and shut my locker, sighing in frustration. 

Susan sits up and regards me with interest. "Come on, Abby. Don't take this out on Carter. He had to go."

I glower at my friend. "No he didn't."

"Abby…"

"No, he didn't." I repeat with emphasis. "He didn't have to go. He wanted to go."

"He didn't say that."

I close my eyes and sigh. "He didn't have to say it." 

Susan stares at me for several moments, looking uncomfortable, before taking a deep breath and pushing herself off the couch. She glances out the window and into the ER. Her expression changes slightly as she tries to regain some perk in her voice. 

"Why don't I take you out tonight?" 

I shake my head sharply at her change of subject. "What?"

"Come on, you and me. We'll grab some dinner, check out a movie."

I look from her, out into the ER, down to my bag and back up at her. "You're working." 

She shrugs. "It's slow." A small grin begins to form on her face, and I find it hard to keep my resolve.

What I wouldn't give for an excuse to forget. 

The easy way out. 

I shake my head, grabbing my bag with one hand and my jacket with another. I push off on my heel and begin to head towards the door. "I don't need a pity date, Susan." 

"Come on, Abby…"

I turn around slowly and force myself to meet Susan's stare. "Look, I'm just… Tired. That's all. I just want to go home."

"And sleep?" 

I shrug. "Whatever." 

She takes a moment to consider this before stepping towards me. Placing a hand on my shoulder, she gives it a squeeze. "We just worry about you." 

I raise my eyebrows. "We?"

"We… Me, Chen, Gallant…" She trails off, her head bobbing up and down.

I bite my lip. "Oh, " I sigh again, "Well, you don't need to. I'm fine." I give her a weak smile. "Really."

She regards me closely for several seconds and nods quietly. Releasing the grip on my shoulder, she pushes me slightly backwards towards the door. 

"Go, you'll miss your train."

I nod, turning around and opening the door. I pause a final time to face her again. "Night, Susan."

"Goodnight, Abby. And please, get some rest!"

Easier said than done.

***

.

.

.

"When does it start?"

Claire frowns for a moment, looks at her watch and then towards the front of the room. "Ahh, there's Bruce." She looks back up at me. "It's his turn to open." 

I shift my eyes in the direction of the podium where sure enough, a short, middle-aged man is stepping forward. Over the hum of the other members gathered, I can hear him clear his throat. Beside me, Claire sighs with satisfaction and starts to move away from the refreshment table. She stops and twists her head over her shoulder. 

"You coming, Abby? There are a few more seats left at the front." 

I open my mouth in a moment of panic, and close it promptly. I smile warmly. "Thank you, but I think I'll catch a spot back here." 

"You do that. We'll talk later." 

I watch her walk towards the front of the room and take a seat near the aisle. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and summon up enough courage to push my own body forward and down into a chair.

"Hi, my name is Bruce…"

Now what?

.

.

.

***

**__**

Pivotal Moment #8: First Kiss

Unexpected. Overwhelming. Emotional. 

Comforting.

Hardly perfect, and yet… Oddly appropriate for us. 

After all, wasn't that the place where our relationship first started? 

County General. A pillar of life and loss. And, for us, even love. 

You told me once that romance has little to do with the activity, and more to do with the partner. I believe it now, as I walk through the halls without you. As I look up on the board, hoping to see your name there, or waiting for you to snag me passing by an empty exam room.

The shifts seem twice as long, now that you're not here. 

And the nights… The nights are even longer. Lying awake, thinking about where you are and what you're doing, I scare myself with the idea that you might not come back to me. That I'll be left to grieve for that happy ending we never got.

I don't believe in fairytales, John. And I don't think I ever will. 

Still, I wish for something sweeter. I pray that you'll come home, safe and sound, and we can start over. Picking up the pieces of our broken hearts. Mending the rifts that have grown between us when we weren't looking. 

The small idealist in me is looking for that easy fix. A kiss to make it all better. 

The realist says it'll take much more than that. Time. Commitment. Communication. 

But I'm willing to work for it. For you, for me. For us. 

I think back to that night in Trauma Yellow, when I asked for reassurance. I wanted everything to be all right. We would get through this, just like we'd gotten through everything else. The addictions. The torment. The pain of being apart, when the fates would have it so.

We're no strangers to bad timing, are we? Maybe that will change, someday.

It's not easy for me to be optimistic, and that's not something I can fully explain. Perhaps when we do finally exchange these notebooks, I'll be in a more tranquil place. But for now, it's all I can do not to just give up and give in. 

Deep down, I don't believe it all ended the moment you kissed me. The moment I got the one thing I'd yearned for, dreamt about and needed…

You. 

I know now that, sometimes, wishes do come true. So maybe I'll get lucky a second time, and have this one granted, too: 

The worst of this is over. We're going to be okay. 

My love is yours. Always.

Abby. 

***

.

.

.

"So, Abby… What brings you here at this hour of the night?" 

"Oh, um…" I check my watch. Almost 3 am. I laugh a little and shake my head, running my fingers though my hair. "I guess I couldn't sleep."

"Ahh… Happens to the best of us." 

I laugh. The best of us. "Yeah." 

"Would you like to talk about it?"

I glance over at Claire as I contemplate her question for an unusual length of time. Unusual for me, that is.

And for some reason, I realize, I can't brush it aside. Not this time. 

"It's complicated, really…" 

She shrugs. "Try me." 

.

.

.

***

Oh, it's you. Hi. 

I don't know what I was expecting when I looked into the mirror tonight, but I don't think this was it. For this, I hadn't prepared myself for the worst. Go figure. 

I really have no idea what to say to the image staring back at me. 

Long time, no see?

Welcome back, friend? 

Same old, same old? 

In the dim light, my reflection haunts me. It's creepy and almost disgusting, yet at the same time, oddly comforting. To realize that I'm only human. That I look about as bad as I feel. Dark circles shade the hollow of my eyes. The lines on my face have somehow become sharper, more exaggerated. My hair hangs in a damp mess around my shoulders, its mix of golden blonde and brown tones looking more muted than ever. I should dye it back, I figure. Get it cut. Change it up.

But I won't. I'll stay like this, even though I've grown tired of it. 

__

I woke up sick of myself, okay, and if you're sick of me, and just all of it, I don't blame you.

I told him I changed, that I was working on turning my life around. I stopped smoking, I stopped drinking. I changed my obligations. To my family. To myself. I sent Eric away, back to Minnesota.

I did the hardest things I've ever had to do in my entire life, because I wanted my life back.

So why do I feel more out of control than ever?

Why do I feel like I've given up some, only to lose the rest? 

I have nothing. Just … this. A picture of a lonely woman standing in front of her bathroom mirror. Withered and bruised. 

__

I want to help you, not because I'm a nice guy, or because I'm worried about you, but because I want to be with you.

I'm not happy. I'm not sleeping. I'm not feeling anything. 

I'm without him.

__

Nothing's right here. 

He's right. We've grown. Apart. Sometime between our first kiss and the day he left, we drifted away from one another. We lost sight of the bigger picture. We forgot what we'd been waiting for.

The here and now? Or the everlasting? 

One of us knew, and fought a one-sided battle. The other was too afraid to fight.

Or were they? 

__

Wait for me.

I'm here, John. I'm standing right here. I'm waiting. And I'll keep waiting, for as long as I have to. 

Until you come back, or until I get the phone call.

My reflection won't change, until then. 

***

.

.

.

I glance around the virtually empty hall. "I should get going… My shift starts in a few hours." 

Claire raises her eyebrows in interest. "Oh, yeah? Where do you work?" 

"County General…"

"I see." She thinks about this for a second before adding, "I won't tell anyone." 

I frown. "What?"

She studies me for another second and smiles. "Never mind." 

I stand up and look towards the door first. She rises beside me. 

"It was nice meeting you, Abby."

I smile distractedly, my mind already making a hasty exit outside. "Uh, thanks. You too."

"I look forward to seeing you again, soon."

I glance at her. "Umm, well… I don't know about that."

"There's an earlier meeting, you know. At seven." 

I tip my head to the side. "Really?" 

Claire nods. "Yeah." She smiles again as she leans in lowering her voice. "Just use the side entrance to avoid tripping over the Boy Scouts."

"Ahh…" 

"So, will I see you again?"

"Umm…" I glance around the room once more and smile. "Yeah. I think you might."

.

.

.

***

I'm debating whether or not to ignore my tenacious visitor when her voice filters through the door.

"Come on Abby, it's me.

I shake my head and a moment later open the door to a smiling Susan. I try my best to hide the eye roll.

"Susan." I state flatly. My interest perks a little as I notice the large brown paper bag she's balancing on her hip. "What are you…"

She tips her head to the side. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like you're coming over without an invitation." 

Annoyance flashes across her face, and I can see her square her jaw and round her shoulders ever so slightly. "Well, if that's what it looks like…" She pauses for a moment as her expression changes once more. She laughs lightly. "Are you going to let me in?" 

I sigh and stare up at the ceiling for a moment. I haven't the strength for this. I shrug and step aside in defeat, waving my free hand in the air to show her the way inside. She smiles again and brushes past me. 

She answers my next question before I have a chance to ask it. 

"I've got videos and I've got junk food." She calls out, setting the bag on the kitchen table. I close the door and follow her path, stopping a few feet behind her.   


"For what?" 

"For what, Abby? Geez…" She turns around, comeback ready and stops. She stares at me for several seconds, then turns back to the bag, sifting through it. "I tried calling earlier. Where were you?" 

I frown and look around the kitchen for an excuse. "I was, uh… I was out." 

"Out?" 

"Yes…" I cross my arms over my chest. "Out. Why?"

Susan responds by turning around again, narrowing her eyes and looking me squarely in the eye. I'm unsure really of how to interpret this expression, but I'm given a clue moments later, as her shoulders start to quake. She bursts out with laughter. I shake my head and throw my hands up in the air.

"I give up. Stay." I roll my eyes and trudge over to my friend. "You said you had junk food?" 

"Oreos, cheese puffs and ice cream." She reaches into the bag and pulls out two pints of Hagen Daz. "Spoons?" 

I nod and pad over to the drawer where the cutlery resides, pulling it open. "What did you rent?"

"Well, I wasn't sure what you would want to watch, so I got 'St. Elmo's Fire'…"

"Ah… We're going old school." I smile with approval. 

"… And 'The Bridget Jones Diary'."

My jaw drops open. "You didn't." 

Susan shrugs, giggling. "I had to." 

I laugh and hand her a spoon, accepting a carton of ice cream in return. "You're something, you know that?"

She tips her head to the side and smiles innocently. "But you love me anyway, right?"

I sigh and shake my head. "Right." 

And what would I do without you?

***

.

.

.

"Hey, Abby… It's great to see you back again."

Claire smiles up at me from her spot in front of the coffee percolator and hands me a cup. 

"Did you forget we had a meeting at seven?" 

I take her offering, giving a smile of thanks. "Umm, no. I was working. We were pretty busy." 

"Really? Wow. You must be exhausted, then." 

"Not really," I lie.

"Well, it's no matter now. You're here."

I survey the room as I sip my coffee. "I guess so." 

"Would you like to sit up front tonight?" 

My eyes dart back to her. "Uh… Maybe not."

"Are you sure?" She scans the rows of chairs. "Not even the third row?" 

I bite my lip. "All right." 

Claire smiles and leads me up the aisle towards an empty seat. Once I'm settled, she nods with satisfaction and leans over. "I'm glad you came tonight. It's my turn to open." 

I raise my eyebrows. "Really? Well, I'm glad I came too, then." I show her what I hope is a genuine smile and watch as she walks up to the front. I purse my lips together and sit back in my chair, staring down at my coffee. I'm not eve aware of the figure sitting next to me until he clears his throat. 

"Hey, umm… You were here last night, right?" 

I frown and look up at him. "Um, no. Two nights ago."

He nods slowly. "That's right. I thought I recognized you."

I push a piece of hair behind my ears. "Yeah." I blush a little and stick out my hand. "Abby."

He takes it eagerly. "John." 

Snap goes my heart. I pull back and close my eyes, nodding. "Hi."

"Is something wrong?"

I open my eyes quickly to look at him, and shake my head. "No, no… I'm sorry. I'm just a little nervous."

"Did you just start the program?"

I look down at my coffee. "Not really." He sends me a questioning look, and I'm forced to elaborate. "More like reconnecting with the cause."

"Ahh… I get it." He sits back in his seat and looks up at the podium. "Don't worry… I've been here for two weeks. It's not so bad." He glances down at me and winks. "Hey, maybe you'll even have fun." 

I shrug, smiling. "Maybe." 

.

.

.

***

I open my eyes and roll my head back and forth against the couch cushions. I must have dozed off towards the end of the movie. The television is off now, the room only partially lit by the light of the lamp on the end table. Susan sits beside it, flipping through a magazine. I groan, catching her attention. She sits up and regards me with expectant interest.

"Did you sleep well?" She asks, a bemused smile creeping across her face. 

I blink to clear my vision and stretch, coaxing my tired body upwards. "What time is it?"

"Mmm… After midnight." 

I frown and look around the darkened apartment. "Why did you let me fall asleep?" 

Susan sighs. "Why do you think, Abby? You're exhausted." 

I roll my eyes. "I'm fine." 

"No, you're not. You haven't been sleeping, have you?"

She stares at me pointedly, and I can do nothing but avert my eyes. 

"I've been busy." 

"With what? You work 16 hour shifts, and then you come home."

"That's not true."

"Abby… Have you been drinking?" 

I raise my eyes, but still I haven't the guts to look at her. "What did Carter say to you before he left?"

"I don't think that's…"

"No, I think it's got everything to do with anything." I make myself to meet her gaze in a challenge. "He told you to keep an eye on me, didn't he?" 

"Abby…" The look on her face gives her away. "He's just worried about you." 

I scoff. "So worried he had to trek halfway across the world to separate himself from me. So worried that he'd rather terrify me with the idea of losing him for good than actually be with me." I raise my eyebrows and look at Susan.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. "He loves you. You know that."

I tip my head from side to side and laugh bitterly. "Yeah, well…" Heaving a big sigh, I manage to lift myself up off the couch. 

"I know he was going to propose. And I know why he didn't." I begin to circle aimlessly around the room. 

"And I know that things just have this way of interfering with our lives."

"Like what?" She asks, twisting around in her spot to watch me. 

"Like family. Like Eric and Maggie. Like smallpox and blizzards." I look down at the floor. "Like my drinking. Like boyfriends and…" I look at Susan, "… girlfriends."

She stares at me for a moment, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry at the expression on her face. 

"Say something."

She shakes her head and rises off the couch, meeting me in the middle of the room. 

"Do you love him?" 

I smile weakly, close my eyes and inhale a shaky breath, nodding. 

"Then, go after him." 

"How?" I open my eyes and search hers for the answer. 

"I think you know."

I nod again and bring a palm up to my cheek, brushing away a few stray tears. "Yeah." I sniffle and manage a warmer smile for her. "Thank you." 

She wraps her arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a tight hug. "Anytime," she replies, and I can hear the crack in her voice. Sure enough, when we part, she wipes away her own tears. 

"Look at us…" She laughs. 

"We're pathetic," I add.

"Not we're not… We're women." Susan takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Now… I think I should go, before John Carter makes us both cry again."

I laugh. "Okay." I watch her as she grabs her coat and shoes, and open the door for her when she's ready.

"I'm glad you came tonight, Susan. Even if you were uninvited."

She grins. "Me too." 

"Goodnight."

"Night Abby. And please…"

"… Get some sleep?" I finish, raising an eyebrow. 

She nods. "Yes."

I smile. "I will."

I watch her walk down the hallway and to the top of the stairs before closing the door. I sigh and lean against it, closing my eyes. 

"I promise." 

***

.

.

.

I approach the now familiar building and check my watch. 6:56 p.m. I glance up above me as another rumble of thunder rolls through the sky, and give a small sigh of relief that I'd made it before the heavens rained down on me. 

__

Just use the side entrance to avoid tripping over the Boy Scouts.

I find my way inside and to the hall, glancing around for the faces I've come to know and get to know. Claire smiles from the front of the room and makes her way towards me moments later, beaming.

"Hey, Abby! You made it!" 

I smile at her enthusiasm and laugh. "Yeah, I did." 

"Well, isn't this a treat…" Another voice calls up from behind me. "What'cha doing here during waking hours?" 

I wave in John's direction. "Would you believe me if I said there wasn't anything good on television?"

He laughs. "Probably."

"We're actually just about to start… It's a little bit crowded in here, though, so…" Claire scans the room, looking for any open chairs.

I take a deep breath. "Actually, Claire… If you don't mind, I was kind of hoping to…" I point towards the podium. 

Her eyebrows shoot up and she grins widely. "Really? Oh, that would be terrific." She turns around and quickly heads towards the front of the room, motioning us over. I throw John a look over my shoulder, and he laughs. 

"You know you're just another notch on her bedpost, right?" He quips. 

He takes his seat in the second row and I travel the last few steps towards the front of the room. Claire's standing beside the podium, beaming. I smile and nod and she scoots off to the side, giving me room. I step up to the lectern, take another deep breath to ease the butterflies in my stomach, and turn around to face my captive audience. 

This one's for you, Carter. Wherever you are. 

"Hi, my name is Abby, and I'm an alcoholic…" 

.

.

.

*** 

3:36 am, and I'm wide awake. 

It would figure. I've been fighting off sleep for two weeks, and the first time I allow myself to give in to the days upon days of emotional turmoil, I would miss this. 

A homecoming. 

"Abby?"

His voice is followed by movement in the other room, and I direct my attention towards the doorway. He appears a moment later, clad in only a t-shirt and his boxers, and leans heavily against the frame, rubbing his hand across his stomach in a sleepy motion.

I try not to gasp as I set my sights on him for the first time in a long time. Talk about a sight for sore eyes. He's never looked so tired, so weary, so… Fragile. And yet, so unbelievably sexy. 

__

I'm so glad you're home

"Why are you sitting out here?" 

I shrug and look down at my hands_._ When I draw my head upwards again, he takes it as a cue, stepping into the room. I sit up from my spot on the couch and he hesitates – stopping a few feet away. His eyes are wide suddenly and he looks at me for a signal. I smile a little and nod, pulling the blanket away from my feet. I watch him with acute interest as he eases himself onto the cushion next to me and takes the hem of the sheet, draping it across his lap. A few more seconds pass before I'm able to find my voice. 

"When did you get in?" 

His gaze is lowered, eyes transfixed on a familiar possession that lies in front of us. "Midnight." 

I nod again and purse my lips together in thought. My eyes flicker past the notebook that sits on the table, and towards the clock on the VCR, then back to him. 

"Why didn't you wake me?" 

His pauses before answering, his hand sneaking across my knees to capture one of mine. He drags it into his lap, lacing his fingers with mine.

"You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to interrupt your dreaming."

A breath catches in my throat as my heart skips a beat. 

Oh, John Carter, if you only knew…

"I wouldn't have minded." I look up, locking my gaze with his, and smile. "Really."

The grin that was lurking just beneath his exhausted features finds its way to the surface for a moment, and he sighs heavily. He stares at our entwined hands for several seconds before taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry."  


"I know." 

"It's just that -"

"Carter, don't."

He glances up at me. "Don't what?"

I shake my head. "Don't… Don't do this. No excuses, okay? Not tonight." 

I don't want to fight. I just want you. Now. 

Confusion flickers across his face for the briefest of moments before his face softens and he laughs lightly. 

I raise an eyebrow. "What?"

"How do you know that was what I was going to do?" He smiles knowingly. 

I bite my lip, trying to suppress my own grin. I shrug. "Three years of experience?" 

He responds by dropping my hand, choosing instead to wrap an arm underneath my legs and swing them across his lap. I shift my position on the couch to face him. He settles once more, smoothing the blanket out around the two of us and turning his attention back to me. Instinctively, I reach a hand up to him, gently grazing my fingers over his unshaven cheek. 

"So…"

He smiles again and leans over. "So…"

Instinctively, I draw my body forwards stopping only when our faces are mere inches apart. I can feel one of his hands creep around to my back as the other one slides its way up my thigh. Even through layers of cotton and cashmere, his touch is electric. His breath across my skin is doing wonders for my own respiration, as I struggle to steady my heartbeat.

I never thought we'd be this close – ever again. 

Where did you go?

"Abby?"

I flick my eyes upwards and find myself staring into two glorious, brown pools of heaven.

What did you see?

He opens his mouth to say something else, but I shake my head and smile. I continue my roam around his face, allowing my fingers a moment or two to linger at the corner of his mouth. He blinks once, twice, as he watches me trace his features. We're captivated. 

What did you feel…when you were there? 

My fingers travel up the bridge of his nose, across his eyebrows and to his hairline. I draw in a shaky breath as I thread my fingers through his hair, finding that spot on the back of his neck where I know my hands fit perfectly. 

Did you think about me?

He leans forward, resting his forehead against my head. 

"Abby…"

I lick my lips. My voice is barely above a whisper. "Welcome home." 

He manages a low groan and grips my thigh, squeezing it a few times before sliding it up my body to cup my cheek. 

"God, I missed you." 

I laugh lightly, and I'm sure the tears in my eyes mirror the glisten in his. "Good."

He draws a line across my jaw. "I should have woken you up." 

I roll my eyes playfully. "I'm awake now." 

"Are you sure?" 

I think for a moment and smile. "Well, if I'm not, this is some kind of cruel dream…" 

It's his turn to chuckle, and I swear, it's the sweetest sound I've heard in four weeks. I lean into his embrace, my hands tightening their hold on his neck.

Don't let go. 

"John?" 

He closes his eyes, a content smile playing across his lips. "Hmm?"

"Tell me about Africa?"

His smile fades as his eyes open, and he pulls away a moment later, looking away. His movements throw me, and I frown in confusion. 

"What is it?" 

He glances over at me, and then down at the blanket. "Not now." 

I watch him for several seconds before sighing. "Fine." I sit back against the side of the couch and stare down at my hands. 

He shifts towards me again, and I fight the urge to follow his lead. A hand drops down on my own.

"I'm just… tired and… not ready yet." 

I bring my gaze upwards to meet his. His eyes plead for understanding. I bite my lip and nod quietly. He flashes me a look of gratitude and settles back against the cushions. 

We sit there in silence for a few moments, once again wrapped up in our separate thoughts, worlds. 

For one more night only, I vow. 

I move first, lifting my legs from their perch across his lap. He watches as I stand and pick the blanket up, tossing it towards the other end of the couch. 

"I'm going back to bed." 

He stares up at me. "Want some company?" 

I offer my hand out to him. "I was hoping…"

He smiles and takes it gladly, giving it a squeeze. As he rises off the couch slowly, his eyes once more fall on my journal lying on the coffee table. I squeeze his hand again to regain his attention, wink in his direction and turn around, leading us both back into the bedroom. 

He pauses in the doorway, pulling me backwards into his chest. I sigh as his arms slip around my waist and his lips graze past my ear.

"Been doing a little writing?" He whispers before dropping his mouth to my shoulder, leaving his mark.

I bite my lip and smile. "Maybe a little…"

"Hmm…" He raises his head again, kissing me softly on the cheek. "You'll have to show me someday…" 

I twist around in his arms and gaze up at him.

"Well…" I smile coyly as I draw a line up his arm to his shoulder. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours..." 

Before he can respond, I snake one hand around his neck while the other one grabs the front of his t-shirt, dragging him down to my level. My mouth finds his an instant later. He responds to the kiss immediately, grasping my hips, pulling me towards him. My tongue, seemingly on a mission of its own, gropes for an invitation, and when he complies, a newfound passion surges through the both of us, threatening to knock us off our feet if we're not careful. 

But we are, and so we pull apart a moment later.

We're still too raw for anything more. 

"I missed you, too. So much." 

And I know that the journey isn't over yet.

Here we are again.

***

Reflections, FINITO 

Author's notes follow on next page… 


	21. Author's Notes

****

Dear Readers,

Wow. Looks like we've finally made it. 

Time for some accolades, don't you think? Let's see now… 

The better question here would be… Who _not_ to thank?

My readers. My fans… To those of you who've been there since day one, and to those of you who are just figuring it out now. You are the cream of the crop. Thank you for reading chapter 1, and thanks for coming back for more. Thank you for reminding me that I was indeed the author of an episodic serial, and that it was high time I updated. And thank you for not hunting me down when I was tardy with the chapters. Thank you for all 129 reviews. I loved every single one of them. 

You know who you are, and you make up the best. 

My betas. **Pix** was the first, eons ago when I was just a new author. And even though she had no advance glance at the makings of the series as it unfolded, she still played a part in this project. She took a chance on me way back when, and I kept going. So if you want to blame someone, blame her. Cheers, Pix!

****

Starsy… What can I say. Ever faithful, ever loyal. Even when I wasn't so much. Time differences (no matter how small) and other limits suck, my friend. Still you were there. Thank you for you enthusiasm, for your encouragement, and your unflappable support. Don't ever change. 

****

This series is dedicated to the wonderful group of chums at the Carby Board, where I've whittled away many hours over the past year. Thanks for corrupting me with kindness. You make it hard to say goodbye (so maybe I won't). 

Taylor_Wise… Wow. Here we are, huh? It's like… The end of an era… What's going to happen, now? Seriously, though. You rock. If it wasn't for you continuously raising the bar and giving me the incentive to outwit, outlast and outwrite you, I'd probably be straggling back on the 15th lap. I'll tell you know lies … I thrive on competition, you were a worthy opponent, and I'm proud to call you friend. 

And finally… _sigh_ … **KenzieGal**. What's left to say? You're my rock. My shining star. The epitome of class and style. Would you like me to go on? If I started to list all the things I'm grateful to you for… well… we'd likely be here all day. So let me sum it all up with this: It's you, and everything you've brought to the table. Your friendship is my gold star, and I show it to everyone. I'm so happy we're not done yet. 

What's that you say? "You're not done, yet?" 

Ah ha… Some words on what you have to look forward to in the coming times…

If you haven't noticed, KenzieGal and I have kind of bonded in the last seven months. Kind of? We're pretty much inseparable. She's been Carter to my Abby, in more ways than one. And isn't she the best? Okay, okay, I promised her I wouldn't keep gushing… I have a point to make! We started a little project during the latter half of season 9, and even though we _could_ mirror TPTB's tendency to leave us all hanging… We won't. And so we're currently putting a summer series together as a joint epilogue for both "Reflections" and "The Long Way," in which we plan to tie up all the Carby loose ends and finally yield to our fantasies about writing what we want to write. So there you go. The new collaboration is in development and we will keep you updated on its progress and when you can look for it. 

As for "Reflections", there are a few announcements to make. I know I said it was over, and it is… Only not really. Over the summer you can look forward to two all-new installments to be added after this note. Both will serve as post-eps to the episodes I didn't write chapters for.. I felt I owed it to myself and to all of you to truly make this series complete. Can't remember what episodes I'm talking about? Keep watching… 

Also, by the end of the summer, "Reflections" will be available (in archive) on my own web server. Don't worry, I'll give you plenty of notice as to where it's going to be relocated, and hopefully by the time season ten rolls our way, everything will be up and running. In the meantime (and after the party), I will continue to post new work up on ff.net.

Speaking of season ten… I'm sorry to have to announce this, since I do hate to disappoint you, but I have no immediate plans to recreate and/or extend this series into the new season. Sadly, there will be no "Reflections: Part 2." This has been a long and exciting journey, but I feel I should bow out now while I've still got room left to breathe. Alas, even as I write, I'm already beginning to feel the twinge of nostalgia and maybe perhaps even regret, however I do feel this is for the best. 

And so, with that, I bid you all adieu… It's been a blast.

~ Lanie 


	22. Good Things Come

Title: Good Things Come

Disclaimer: Contrary to popular belief (read: my own), I'm in no way associated with ER or any of the characters used in this chapter. Those belong to The Powers That Be and the folks over at Warner Brothers. And since I'm likely breaking all kinds of laws, I'll just say this. No copyright infringement is intended.

Notes: Lookee! It's one of the "lost" post-eps. Spoilers for season 9's "Dead Again", if you have not seen it. Mind you, it's short, and it ain't all that spectacular. 

Much thanks to KenzieGal for her support, honesty and genuine goodness. 

This chapter is dedicated to Bugzey for being such a loveable bug.

What a day. 

Packed to the hilt with patients, the ER had looked its busiest ever. And that's saying something. The endless cycle of human woe had certainly gone more than a few rounds in the ten hours I've spent at County today, and I certainly saw it all – animal vegetable and mineral.

One for the record books, in more ways than one. 

And to top it off, I've had to work side-by-side with the man of my dreams all day and not lay a hand on him. Well, except for the goose at the admit desk, the neck rub, and the kiss on his forehead as I left the lounge. 

But when you think about it, that's tame compared to some of the other shifts we've shared together. 

Back at the beginning, not two months ago, it was rare to find us _not_ glued to each other's hip. Rendezvous in the drug lock up, the lounge, the suture room, or anywhere for that matter, were quite common practice. And who could blame us, after two years of the fates teasing and taunting us, not to mention our own insecurities and stubborn, bull-headed ways? We had time to make up for, and damn it if we weren't going to use every spare moment to its raunchy, illicit potential.

It's amazing that we'd been able to keep our relationship under wraps for that week after the quarantine ended. A week, that's all it lasted until someone found out, and it was all over the place by the time we walked into work – together – the next morning. 

Since then we've made no effort to keep it a terrific secret, aside from the discreet interludes in several semi-private cubbies throughout the ER.

The past two months have been nothing short of every last thing I'd ever dreamt they would be. Working with him, sleeping with him. Talking with him, laughing with him, teasing him. Making love to him. With him.

So one could say I was more than a little disappointed this evening when I realized that he would not be coming home with me after our shifts ended, just like every other night for the past two months. Instead, I had to settle for the simply scrawled post-it I'd left for him at the front desk after discovering his sleeping form in the lounge. I had no doubt he'd know exactly what it meant.

__

My place. Don't waste your time. 

~ AL

Since I knew he wouldn't get to leave quite as easily as I had, I decided to distract myself during the wait, and dropped in on the middle of an AA meeting on my way home. It was the least I could do, I figured, seeing as I ended up missing one this morning due to an unexpected, yet very much welcome encounter with my extremely titillating boyfriend.

The truth was, I had been looking forward to the meeting. And going to the meeting with Carter. Instead, I had to settle for sex in the shower with Carter, which was a more than fair trade. After all, I can go to an AA meeting anywhere at any hour of the day. Quality time with John Carter is slightly harder to come by. 

Especially these days. Which is why I'm planning on making the most of tonight. 

Music playing softly in the bedroom. Candlelight. And the piece de resistance… Me, wearing one of his dress shirts, and nothing else.

All that's missing is the guest of honor. And if I know Carter… He's on his way over, right now. 

Lying on my bed waiting for him to arrive, I close my eyes, imagining him ascending the steps to my building. He searches his pockets until he finds them, the keys I'd given him three weeks into our relationship, the magical entre nous he uses to let himself into the building. I picture him climbing more steps, two at a time, to the second floor, and taking those last few paces towards my apartment.

Honey, I'm home.

A slow smile creeps across my face as the faint sound of someone in the hallway filters through the apartment. Sure enough, seconds later there's a key in the door, followed by the sound of it opening and footsteps against the hardwood. 

At last. We're alone. Together. 

Pushing myself off the bed, I wait until I hear him drop his bag on the floor beside the closet door.

"Abby?" 

I finally make my entrance, appearing in the threshold to the bedroom, propping myself up against the doorframe, one arm flanked above my head, the other resting lightly at my hip.

I smile, tying my best to put on my most seductive look.

"You rang?" 

His eyebrows raise as he eyes me in his dress shirt, the faintest glimmer of amusement flickering across his face before settling into a look of contented wonder. He chuckles a little before sighing.

I pause for a moment to survey the man standing in my living room. His hair is mussed, his t-shirt is rumpled underneath his jacket. Tired, worn… and undeniably sexy. I push myself away from my perch and close the distance between us, stopping just in front of him. Tilting my head upwards, I purse my lips together as I gaze into his eyes. 

His smile grows and he takes a deep breath, holding my gaze. He's almost beaming. However, he doesn't make a move to touch me. 

"What's all this?" He inquires, gesturing towards the candles that line the room.

"What does it look like?"

He nods softly, a twinkle of knowing in his eyes. "Just felt like it?" He adds, taking a step closer. Still, he doesn't reach out for me. 

I roll my eyes playfully. "Yeah. Something like that."

Another step and he's literally hovering over me. I can almost hear his heart beating in front of me, and it's a struggle to keep my breathing in check. I wonder if this game is making him as aroused as I am. A quick glance downwards affirms the answer to that question. 

"And the shirt?" 

I draw my head upwards to meet his stare once more. "You like?"

"Oh… Absolutely." He reaches up with a hand and gently grazes the collar with his fingers. I swallow slowly, pushing back the incredible urge to jump him as well as the reflex to whimper when he pulls his hand away and straightens. He clears his throat. "So, were you, umm… Expecting company?" 

I close my eyes and heave an exasperated sigh. "John…" Glancing up, I catch the look of pure mischief that edges his features, and shake my head, smiling coyly.

"What?" 

I laugh lightly. "You're impossible, you know that?" 

"As a matter of fact - "

"Shut up."

He stops mid-sentence and frowns. "What?" 

I blink once, cocking my head to the side. "I said, shut up. As in, shut up and kiss me."

He grins widely, opens his mouth to respond - no doubt with another comeback - and reconsiders. Instead, he attempts to compose himself, dipping his head closer to mine. I feel the fingers of one hand travel up my arm and across my shoulder. 

I lick my lips. 

"Well, if that's all you wanted…" He whispers huskily before tipping my chin upwards, capturing my mouth in a tender kiss. 

Of course, the peck is much too short for my satisfaction, and when he pulls back a moment later, I give in to the passion welling up inside me, drawing him downwards again for another, more intense encounter. I step back and take in his shocked expression before snaking both of my arms around his torso, underneath his jacket and around his shoulders.

"Care to stay awhile?" I ask as I slowly slide the garment off him. It drops to the floor a second later.

He glances behind him. "Do I have a choice?" 

I shrug as I slip my arms around him, pulling him towards me. I trace a small pattern on his chest with my index finger and gaze up at him. 

"Not if you ever want to be invited back…" 

He mimics my actions, wrapping his own arms around me, pulling me even tighter against him. "Mmm… I guess I'm here for the night, then." He leans forward, resting his forehead against mine. 

I sigh. "Mmhmm, I guess you are." I smile, reaching up on my tiptoes for another kiss.

"Lucky me." 

***

"Hey."

"Hmm?"

I raise my head from its resting spot atop his chest and shift positions, propping myself up on my elbow. I gaze down at him, biting my lip as I lightly trail my fingers around the canvas of his body. 

He looks at my curiously. "Abby…"

I take a deep breath. "You don't need permission."

He frowns. "What?"

"You don't need permission, John…" I repeat, then smile. "To touch me. You don't need permission anymore." 

His expression softens with relief as he stares at me for several moments, allowing my words to truly sink in. His eyes drift from my face to the hand that now dances lightly around his torso. He picks it up and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently. I close my eyes and sigh softly, losing myself in the moment. 

"Thank you."

I peel my lids apart, peering curiously at him. "For what?"

It's his turn to sigh now, as he lifts himself up off the mattress, shifting to mirror my own position. Reaching out, he pushes a lock of hair away from my face, his thumb carefully caressing my cheek as he does. A quiet, contented expression splashes across his face as his eyes slowly follow his hand that travels the curve of my neck, across my shoulder and down my side to my hip where it rests. Even through the cotton of the sheet, his touch is enough to set my flesh ablaze, and I bite back a low moan. 

"For tonight. For every night. Abby, the past two months have been…" He trails off, his eyes flicking upwards to meet mine. 

I catch his gaze and we smile together. 

"I know." I bite my lower lip shyly, and giggle a little as his eyes roll back in his head at the sight of my coy expression. He expels a throaty groan, which makes me laugh even harder. 

"What is it?" I manage to squeak out between fits. 

He shakes his head and chuckles. "It's you."

My giggles subside and I raise my eyebrows. "What about me?"

His smile fades as his features take on something more serious. "Do you know how incredibly sexy I think you are?"

I roll my eyes. "Cut it out." 

"For two years I had to hold myself back. Remind myself that you were off limits. Do you know how much torture that was?"

I blink slowly and lower my head. "I think I have some idea." 

"I'm sure you do. But..." 

I feel a finger lift my chin, directing my gaze at him. "… I never want to do anything to hurt you." 

My breath catches in my throat. "You won't."

"Abby…"

"No, John. Listen to me. You won't. Nothing will ever be worse than being with you except not being _with_ you. Do you understand?"

He swallows once, nodding.

I smile. "Good." I heave big sigh. "Now…" I roll on to my back, pulling him over top of me. "I think it's time to try and break these old habits of yours."

He grins as he lowers himself down around me, his head dipping to meet the swell of my chest. "What habits?"

I thread my fingers through his hair. "Well, for one, you ask too many questions." 

He lifts his head and eyes me lustily. "How about I shut the both of us up, then?" 

"Okay. But only if you kiss me instead."

He groans again and lunges forward. "Incredibly sexy…" 

"Shut up."

"My pleasure." 

***

I shift my head on the pillow to look at him and smile. His eyes are closed, a peaceful expression resting across his face. One arm is lazily draped over my hip, his hand splayed out on my abdomen. I lift my own arm up, my fingers grazing up and down the length of his forearm, stopping at the back of his palm, tracing small circles over each of his knuckles. 

I sigh.

I'm spooning with John Carter. Who would have thought?

Two years ago, I had nothing. And now…

Sometimes I feel the need to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming. Yet one look into the chocolate oasis of his eyes, and I know that I'm not. 

It's no small wonder that I can't keep my hands off of him. It's all I can do to get through the day without pinning him against the wall of some empty exam room and having my way with him. Hell, the room doesn't even have to be empty.

But I can feel it changing. The mood. The intensity. The need to be with each other all the time. The desire to touch him, it's not out of lust anymore. And I can't quite put my finger on it, but I know…

__

I'm drawn to you, it's kind of that simple.

It's a little funny that, after everything we've been through, this would be the easiest part of it all.

Surreal doesn't begin to explain it, I realize as I feel him inhale deeply behind me, his arm drawing me closer to his chest. I purse my lips as his fall to rest at the back of my neck and linger there for a moment. 

"Abby…" His breath is warm against my skin. He knows I'm awake. 

I sigh again and sink into his embrace, leaning my head against his shoulder, craning my neck to look up at him in the cascading moonlight. He shifts back against his pillow to make it easier for me to see him and we lie there for a moment, staring at each other in sleepy, joyful wonderment. It's he who breaks the silence once more as he dips down, brushing his lips sweetly against mine.

"What are you thinking about?"

I smile. 

"You." 

"Me?"

I giggle. "Don't look so surprised, Carter. It was bound to happen sooner or later." 

"Mmm." He responds by wrapping his arms tighter around me and entwining our fingers together. "I just wish it had happened sooner rather than later." 

I peer up at him. "You do?"

He looks pained. "Of course, Abby. You know that." 

I bite my lip and look down at our hands. "Yeah." 

"Hey." He kisses the top of my head. "That's not to say that I'm not happy it happened when it did. I would have waited twenty years for this."

I roll my eyes. "Don't get carried away, now. I'm not that much of a catch."

"Oh, but you are." He whispers, lowering his head again to kiss me. "And the wait was worth it." 

"Yes, it was." I pull one of my hands out of his grasp and reach up to stroke the side of his face. "Thank you." 

He raises an eyebrow. "For what?"

I smile lovingly. "For kissing me in that trauma room. For every night after that. And for every night to come."

"Believe me when I say this… The pleasure is all mine."

"I believe it." I pause to study his face, taking a deep breath. "It's different now, though." 

"What is?"

"Us. This. It's… changed, somehow." I shake my head and shrug. "I don't know." Smiling, I snuggle closer to him. "Two years of all this pent up sexual tension and we've managed to exhaust it in two months. I would have thought it would have lasted longer than this."

He chuckles lightly, and I can feel the vibrations in his chest. "Well, we _were_ rather eager, weren't we?" 

"I'll say." Closing my eyes, I sigh. "I can feel your heart beating."

"Mmhmm. That's a good thing."

He takes a deep breath and sinks lower into the mattress, taking me with him. His arms relax around me, our hands still interlaced. Another kiss to the top of my head, I imagine him closing his own eyes, urging sleep on, that peaceful, contented expression once again taking residence upon his face. His breathing slows along with mine, and we're both close to unconsciousness when one of us – I'm not sure who – dares to break the spell one more time.

"Hey."

"Yeah?" 

"Let's do this again tomorrow night, okay?"

Pause. "Okay." 

Yeah, I wouldn't mind doing this every night.

Until the stars don't shine.

***


	23. Game Faces

Title: Game Faces

Disclaimer: Contrary to popular belief (read: my own), I'm in no way associated with ER or any of the characters used in this chapter. Those belong to The Powers That Be and the folks over at Warner Brothers. And since I'm likely breaking all kinds of laws, I'll just say this. No copyright infringement is intended.

Notes: Voila! The second and final lost post-ep of season nine. It's also the chapter that makes the 'Reflections' series complete. Hooray! Look for the full archive at . Thanks for being such a great bunch to write for. :o) 

For details on the epilogue, due to be released later this summer, see chapter 21. 

Spoilers for season 9's "A Hopeless Wound", if you have not seen it. 

"Trick or treat?"

"Excuse me?"

I glance up at Carter out of the corner of my eye as we walk across the street towards my building. "I said… Trick, or treat?" 

He throws me a confused look, dropping my hand and shuffling off to the side to give a group of costumed kids the right of way. He smiles warmly at them before catching my eye again. "I'm sorry… I don't get…"

I sigh and shake my head, laughing at his expression. "Come on, Carter. Play along." I reach for his hand again, turning to continue our stroll. "Trick or treat… Pick one." 

"Oh, Umm…" He pauses for a moment and looks off into the distance, as if he's giving each choice careful thought. A playful grin accompanies his answer. "Treat, of course."

I roll my eyes. Of course. I smile to myself as we side step yet another pair of Halloweeners as they run past us laughing – parents lagging several paces behind. I laugh again, glancing over my shoulder as the two kids race up the stairs of the next building, their chants of 'Trick or treat' and 'Halloween apples' ringing through the crisp October air. I bite back a twinge of nostalgia, looking back up the street to my apartment. 

"Abby?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah…" I give my head a quick shake and look up at my boyfriend, smiling. "I'm fine."

He regards me for an extra second before nodding. "Okay, so…" 

"So… Trick or treat?"

"I said treat."

"That's right, you did." 

"So…" 

"So…" I swing around in front of him, halting Carter in his tracks. He stops abruptly, frowning for a moment. He opens his mouth to protest, but I reach up and drag his head down to my level, cutting him off with a kiss. Releasing him several seconds later, I take a step back and watch as he reacts, a slow, sexy smile taking shape where my lips just left.

"What… What was that for?" He inquires, his voice caught in his throat. 

I shrug and pull him up the steps to my building, casting a sultry look over my shoulder. "You said 'treat.'"

He groans behind me and I giggle, squeezing his hand and dragging him the rest of the way to the door. As I pull my keys out from my pocket and reach for the doorknob, he leans himself against the wall, watching me with silent interest. I peer at him out of the corner of my eye as I attempt to unlock the door. "What?" 

"Trick or treat?" He responds, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. 

I look up at him as I turn and shove my hip against the door, popping it open. "Trick." 

His expression falls. "And trick means what, exactly?" 

I shrug again. "You tell me." 

He shakes his head and pushes himself off the doorframe. "What are we doing here?"

"We're… Having fun." 

"Hmm, well…" He steps closer, hovering above me. "I think I'll be the judge of that." 

I roll my eyes. "Get inside." 

I shove him through the open door and he leads the way inside. He waits patiently as I stop to retrieve my mail, before guiding me up the stairs to the second floor. In the hallway, I glance down at the keys in my hand, fumbling for the one to my apartment. Apparently he takes my distraction as an opportunity for a surprise attack, as he suddenly spins around, grabs my shoulders and pushes me against the wall. 

"Trick," he states lowly and matter-of-factly. "You said trick."

I eye him curiously. "Yeah…"

He licks his lips. "Kiss me again. Like you did on the sidewalk…"

I grin, reaching up on my tiptoes, snaking a hand around his neck to the back of his head. Don't have to ask me twice, I pull him down and kiss him – as requested – full on the lips. I push myself away from the wall, swaying him further into the hallway as I wrap my other arm around his torso. Pulling away a moment later, I tip my head back and raise my eyebrows. 

"Like that?"

He groans, lunging for me again. I brace my hands on his chest, trying to push him away.

"Carter, stop… Carter! We have an audience." 

He pulls himself up, frowning. I smirk lightly and gesture over his shoulder. The sound of someone giggling can be heard behind us, and we slowly part, greeting our visitor sheepishly.

"Hey, Lena."

The young woman beams widely, trying to contain her excitement. She's wearing a witch's hat and clutches a large bowl of candy. 

"Hi you guys. Happy Halloween."

I look up at Carter, whose blush is starting to fade, then back at my neighbor. "You too. Aren't you supposed to be handing out candy?"

"Yeah… I just came upstairs for a refill." She pauses and examines Carter in his skeleton pants. "Were you two working?" 

I nod. "Yup." 

"Ahh… Well. Cool." She stares at us for a moment more before shrugging and looking towards the stairs. "I think I'm going to go and see if I can't get rid of the rest of this… Night, you two."

"Night!" I call out as she retreats down the stairs and elbow Carter in the ribs. 

"Ow! Goodnight, Lena!" 

I shake my head and turn towards my apartment door, fitting the key in the lock. "Way to go, Romeo. Now she thinks we can't keep our hands off each other." 

"We can't." He points out, slipping his arms around me from behind. 

"Speak for yourself." I retort, opening the door and flipping on the lights. He lets go and follows me inside, shedding his jacket as he enters. I do the same and hand mine to him to hang up in the closet. 

"Argh," I groan as I flip on the light in the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" 

I shake my head and pick up the bag of candy sitting on the table. "I forgot to give it to Lena this morning." He gives me an unsure look and I clarify, "For the kids."

He nods. "You can probably still catch her."

I shrug. "Or you could give it to her… You know, since you embarrassed me and all."

He puts his hands up in mock defense. "Hey now. Who kissed who?"

  
"It's a game, Carter." I sing lightly as I flip through the mail. 

"Oh, so we're playing a game, now…" 

I sigh and look up at him. "Yes. And it's your turn. Trick or treat?" 

He tips a kitchen chair back and forth. "Treat."

I shake my head and continue sorting the mail. "Mmm… Can't do that." 

"Why not?"

"Because you've already picked treat. Now you have to pick trick." 

"Says you?"

I put the stack in the middle of the table and glare at him. "Says the rules, Boney Boy."

"But you're making up the rules." 

I smile sweetly. "So I am." 

"Why'd you even give me a choice, then?"

I shrug. "It's in the rules." 

He sighs with frustration. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"And yet you can't resist me." I stare at him for a moment and giggle. I'm having a hard time keeping my composure when he looks so ridiculous. 

He throws his hands up. "Fine. Trick. What do you want me to do?"

I pause, tipping my head from one side to another as I contemplate my next proposition. He stares at me expectantly.

"Abby…"

I roll my eyes and turn around, opening the refrigerator. "I'm thinking."

"About what?"

"Are you hungry?"

Another sigh. "No. Why?"

I peer over the door at Carter in his costume. ""Cuz you're looking a little skinny."

"Very funny."

I pull a bottle of water out and shut the door. Opening it, I reach over the counter, nabbing a lone drinking glass from beside the sink and fill it with the contents from the bottle. All the while with my back to him. I can feel him watching me, growing increasingly more exasperated with each passing second. I love it.

"Abby…" He pleads, his voice taking on a little more whine.

I turn around. "Did you really lose your virginity when you were eleven years old?"

His eyes grow wide with a look like he'd just been slapped. "Excuse me?"

"Trick. Answer the question. Did you really lose your virginity when you were eleven?"

His eyes flicker around the room quickly. "I don't see how that…"

I narrow my gaze. "Carter…"

"Yes. I did."

"With the maid?"

"Yes."

I take a sip of water, set the glass on the counter, and cross an arms over my chest. "Was she pretty?"

"Not really…" He raises an eyebrow, looking at me suspiciously. "Jealous?"

"Of her, or you?"

We stand there for several seconds, staring each other down. I smile and tip my head, hoping my expression will be enough to break him first. I'm right, I realize, as I'm rewarded with laughter. He shakes his head and closes the distance between us, draping an arm over my shoulders, guiding me to the couch. 

"Trick or treat?"

I sigh softly as I plop down on the cushions. "Treat."

He sits down on the coffee table next to me and pats his thigh. "Feet up."

I smile knowingly and oblige, raising my legs and settling myself back against the couch. He throws me a wink before he diverts his attention downwards, removing my sneakers gently. I close my eyes and lean my head back as he begins to knead the flesh through my tights, making sure to give the tender spots a little extra loving.

"How's that?"

"Mmm... Nice." 

"Good."

I gasp a little when his thumb makes contact with a knot, then sigh again as he soothes it out. I'm literally putty in his hands right now. It probably wouldn't take much for me to fall asleep right here, which would take all the fun out of my plans for the evening. 

Obviously Carter doesn't want me to drift off quite so easily, either, as his voice pulls me out of reverie. 

"It was something that happened, you know. Not exactly a moment to be proud of."

I open my eyes and study him for a moment. "First times rarely are."

He scoffs a little, smiling. "Yeah." 

"Except ours."

He pauses for a second and looks up, catching my gaze. "Yeah." 

I blink once, slowly and sit up, pulling my feet out of his lap. I lean forward and motion to him with my index finger. He meets me halfway and I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him lightly on the nose. 

"Thank you." 

He sighs. "You're welcome."

I take a deep breath and push myself off the couch. "Your turn. Trick or treat?"

He grins like a little boy. "Treat." 

I nod sharply and step around his legs, heading towards the bedroom. Pausing in the doorway, I turn around and am greeted with a frown. 

"Where are you going?"

I point to the couch and smile. "Just wait there. I'll be right back."

I traipse through the bedroom and into the bathroom, throwing on the light. Pulling back the shower curtain, I lean over, yanking on the taps full blast. After testing the water with my fingers, I plug the drain and grab the shower gel off the shelf. It's not bubble bath, but it will do. I squeeze the bottle until I'm satisfied, then place it back in its spot. Steam and suds quickly fill the tub and the air surrounding, and I give one last look around the room before returning to my muse.

His voice calls to me as I cross the width of the bedroom. 

"Abby..."

I stop in the doorway to the bedroom with my hands on my hips, a self-satisfied expression casually splashed on my face. "Okay. My turn."

From his spot on the couch, he sends me a pained look. "What about my treat?"

"It's coming," I inform, subtracting a few paces between us.

"But..."

I roll my eyes. "It's coming, Carter. Ask me."

He contemplates my demand for a second before conceding with a sigh. "Trick or Treat?"

I take my spot o the sofa again. "Trick."

"Are those real?" 

"I'm sorry?" I give him a sideways look and realize his gaze has honed in on my chest.

Of course, why wouldn't he ask? I've been walking around all day with my cleavage up around my neck – a look I'd normally be too self-conscious and/or embarrassed to sport, had it not been for the image I've been trying to portray. 

He clears his throat nervously. "I mean... The dress, and the bra, of course... They aren't real, are they?"

I laugh a little at his expense. "Subtle." I turn towards him and lean in, so he can get a better view. I lower my voice an octave. "Would you like to play with my breasts, Carter?" 

He blushes shyly and tries to shift away from me, as if to prove a point. "I'm not, I'm just..."

I raise an eyebrow and stare at him for several seconds before reaching into my bra, pulling out two silicon cups. I toss them his way. "Here you go. Knock yourself out."

He recoils in slight horror, though his face shows a glimmer of joyful victory at having been right. He lets the falsies fall to rest between us, trying unsuccessfully to keep his eyes from drifting back to them every few seconds. 

"Trick or Treat?" I offer in an attempt to distract him.

He shakes his head sharply. "Well, according to the rules... I guess I'm on trick."

I jump to my feet. "Yes. Stand up." 

He obeys, turning to face me.

"Now strip."

"What?!?" He squeaks, eyes wide. 

I laugh, turning on my heel, heading towards the bedroom once more. "Strip, Carter. Take off your costume."

"Hey, now..."

"Just do it." I call loudly as I make my way back to the bathroom. I shut off the water and grab his robe off the back of the door.

I emerge again to find him pulling off his pants, and stop far enough away so as to take in the show. 

"You know, the least you could do is strip with me."

I shake my head. "It's not my turn. Underwear, too."

He groans, leaning over to pull his boxers down. Stepping out of them, he kicks them aside and rights himself, arms open wide at his sides. "Happy, now? Is that my robe?"

I admire him for an extra moment or two before handing him the garment, then barely give him enough time to throw it over his shoulders before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

Duh, Carter.

"You'll see..."

"Abby..."

"Just shut up and let me do this. Geez."

I drag him into the bathroom and loop an arm through his, pulling him to a stop in front of the bathtub. 

"What's this?"

That's my man. Always full of insightful questions. 

I smile and lean into his side. "It's your treat. A little belated, but better than nothing." 

He looks down at me and grins, kissing my forehead. "I thought I'd ordered a sponge bath?"

I shrug. "I didn't want to get water all over the floor. Go ahead. Get in."

He does as told, slipping of his robe and stepping into the tub gingerly, easing himself down into a seated position. I grab a loofa and a bar of soap and quietly kneel down next to him. Lathering up the puff, I dip it into the water and begin a slow, meticulous wash over his body. He moans and leans his head back, closing his eyes. 

"Is it too hot?"

"No, it's perfect. Thank you." 

I bite my bottom lip with satisfaction. "My pleasure."

"You get in, too." 

"No."

His eyes snap open. "Why not?"

I cock my head to the side, putting on what I hope is a sympathetic look as I drag the loofa across his shoulders. "Because that would be against the rules." 

His sighs. "Since when?"

"Since now. Treat"

"Get in, Abby." He tries again with a little more force.

"Nope, sorry. Treat."

He bangs his head against the title. "No. I'm saying, that's your treat. Get in." 

"And I'm saying, that would be for you."

"Fine… " He relaxes again, and sinks lower into the bath, glancing at me out of the corner of his eyes. "By the way, you do look beautiful in that costume," He adds, a slow smile forming.

"Aww."

"I think it would be great if you wore that to work everyday." 

"That's sweet."

"Of course, then, I probably wouldn't get _any_ work done, you know."

I nod in agreement. "Probably not."

"Because you'd distract me."

I shake my head with dismay. "I get the point, Carter. Thank you for the compliment. But I'm not getting into the tub."

He shrugs and closes his eyes again. "Have it your way."

I roll my eyes, biting back a giggle. I drop the loofa into the water with a splash and rock back on my heels. "So... Trick or treat?"

His eyes remain closed. "I lost count."

"Treat." 

I nod. "Ahh. Um, okay. Treat." I pause in thought.

He opens his eyes, rolling his head across the tile. He smiles and waggles his eyebrows much in the same way he had outside my building. 

My mouth forms a 'no' shape as I rock further back on my heels. "I'm not getting into the tub, Carter."

"How's that a treat for me?" He challenges, glowering at me with mock contempt.

"It's not."

He reaches out of the tub. "I could pull you in."

I rock forward, pushing his arm back. "You won't"

"Or at least, get you all wet. What are you wearing underneath that, anyway?"

I glance around the bathroom distractedly. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"As a matter of fact, I would."

My gaze flickers to him once more and I raise my eyebrows. He opens his mouth in surprise and I stand up, towering above him. I tip my head to the side and look down at him as one of my hands comes up to unfasten the snaps on my costume. I watch him watching me as one by one each button comes undone, until the dress falls open. I step back, allowing him a better look. 

His jaw flanks open. "Wh-where'd you get those?" He asks as he eyes me in matching lace white bra, panties and garter-belt.

"They came with the costume..." I laugh. "I bought them, silly boy." 

He opens his mouth, shuts it, then smiles. "That's Boney Boy."

I smile knowingly, my eyes drifting over the bubbles that inconveniently obstruct my true view of John Carter. "Oh really? So I take it you like it?" 

He gives me another once over and nods. "Absolutely."

"Good. My turn." I kneel down by his side again and retrieve the loofa. 

He struggles to regain composure. "Right, right. uh... Trick or trick."

I shake my head as I play with the puff. "Trick or_ treat_." 

"But you're on trick."

I catch his eye and wink. "The rules, baby."

He narrows his gaze. "The rules are stupid."

"No one said you have to like them, but if you want to play the game..."

"Maybe I don't want to play the game anymore."

I shrug. "Suit yourself." I drop the loofa and grip the edge of the tub to push myself up. 

His hand falls on top of mine, halting me. "When did you realize you couldn't live without me?"

I frown at him. "Where did _that_ come from?"

He shrugs and looks away. "Something I've been thinking about."

"Okay, umm..." I ease myself to the floor again. "It was in Oklahoma. Or rather, the night we got back. When Maggie, umm..."

He nods, quietly. 

"I remember thinking 'It can't end like this… not now.'" I dip my fingers into the water and use them to trace patterns on his arm. "I nearly lost it that night, Carter. I would have lost it that night, if it hadn't been for you. I don't think I could have done any of it by myself." 

"That's not true, Abby." 

I sigh. "It might have been. And I just... I don't know. Later that night, I was sitting outside the ICU and I... I missed you." I glance up at him. "Already, you know."

He swallows hard. "I know. I couldn't sleep that night either. Thinking about you."

I tip my head. "Why didn't you come back, then?"

His eyes flicker off me. "Luka." 

I bite my lip. "Oh. Sorry." 

"Don't be." He adds, shaking his head. 

I nod and lean over, resting my forehead against his arm. Warms droplets stream down my cheek as his other hand strokes the side of my face. I sniff and lift my head, kissing his forearm quickly before straightening my back. 

"Hey." I chirp.

"Yeah?"

"Trick or treat?"

His chest rises with a deep breath. "Uh... Trick, I guess."

I lower my gaze and tap his arm lightly. "What's happened between us?" I glance up for a reaction. 

His brow furrows in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

I shrug. "I mean... Last week we both said some things. Things that were difficult for us to say. And since then... I don't know. It just seems like you've put on the brakes…" I look away, " … and I wonder if it's something that I did..."

"No. It's not something you did. It's not something that either of us did."

I flick my eyes towards his. "Then... What is it?"

He sighs. "Abby... When you told me that you loved me, it was the greatest moment of my life." 

I roll my eyes playfully. "Oh, go on..."

"Just listen to me. It was amazing, hearing you say those words. And I've honestly never been happier than I am with you - now. But I knew that was hard for you to admit - your real feelings. At least, I hoped they were real." 

His words give me the strength to look in his eyes. "They are." 

"I know. And I didn't want to pressure you. I _don't _want to pressure you. So if you think we're moving too fast, just say the word, and I'll slow down. But Baby... If you're going to stop me, you need to do it now, because I'm so close to the edge, here." 

He holds my gaze as he finishes, waiting for me to respond. Only, I can't. It's not the first time he's made me speechless, and I doubt it will be the last, but I need to do something now, anything to let him know what I want.

I rise from my spot on the bathroom floor, grabbing a towel off the rack. I smile at him and hold it open as a silent invitation to him. He takes it, slowly stepping out of the tub, and I gently wipe dry the drops of water from his torso before wrapping the towel around his waist. He watches me carefully as I move to grab another towel for him, and he catches my hand on return.

"Abby..."

I smile again and shake my head, and he releases his grip, allowing me to wrap the second towel around his shoulders. I'm filled with an odd sense of déjà vu – the actions I take now are a near repeat of those I took that first day out of quarantine. 

I slide my hands down his chest and circle his waist with my arms. Leaning in, I inhale his scent and sigh before gazing back up at his face. 

His hands come up to cup my cheeks and he looks at me expectantly. "Say something."

I hug him tightly. "Okay." 

"Okay... What?"

I look up, again. "I'm not going to ask you to slow down." 

He smiles and taps the tip of my nose. "Good. Because I'm not so sure I would be able to."

"Mmm. " I nod, closing my eyes. "Trick... or treat?"

"You pick."

My eyelids flutter open and I find myself staring up at the most beautiful, caring, sexy man I've ever known. And it's all I can do not to shudder at the thought that he's here. Stroking me. 

The man of my dreams. Loving me. 

I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss him softly, drawing myself closer to him. His hands gently graze my collarbone and slip underneath the fabric of my costume, causing me to drop my arms long enough to let the dress slip to the floor before wrapping them around his neck. He encircles my waist tightly and leans back, slowly lifting me off the ground for a moment. I smile against his lips as he sets me down again, pulling away as he draws his head upwards with a lopsided grin. I bite my lip and gently caress the side of his face with the back of my hand.

"Treat. Definitely treat." 

*** 


End file.
